


the art of dissimulation

by nezkah



Category: Avenue 5 (TV)
Genre: Alcoholism, Banter, Denial of Feelings, F/M, Flirting, Mutual Attraction, Resolved Sexual Tension, Secret Relationship, Sexual Tension, i wish i was as good at cursing as ryan is, sort-of-but-not-really love triangle
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-09
Updated: 2020-06-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:20:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 39,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23085403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nezkah/pseuds/nezkah
Summary: It seems like every two minutes there's a crisis on Avenue 5, and while Ryan Clark isn't interested in the possibly-dying part at least he has Billie McEvoy at his side to make sure everything doesn't gocompletelyballs-up.  And with as many secrets as he has to keep, balancing the physical and mental strain by himself might be enough to give him a heart attack.  Or liver failure.  Luckily, there’s at least one person he can rely on.Events taking place before s01e07, somewhat of an alternate timeline. Billie's perspective after Ch. 1.
Relationships: Ryan Clark/Billie McEvoy
Comments: 22
Kudos: 77





	1. Chapter 1

Another fucking suit. Ryan supposed he needed it though, considering all the smoke.

What was it? Ah, yes. Clear the ventilation system and reboot oxygen synthesizers. He could barely remember the words, let alone how to do it.

“Jesus christ...”

The mutter had been to himself but Billie’s voice was in his ear, barely audible between the loud groans and clunks of god knew what kind of equipment.

“You’re doing great, Captain!”

“Is there some other definition of ‘great’ I’m not aware of? Because so far I’m fairly certain I’ve managed to make two wrong turns and I think I might be tangled in my own fucking air tubes.”

She gave a stunted, unconvincing laugh and went on as if he hadn’t said anything concerning at all.

“Yes, exactly. After you disconnect the synthesizer and re-seal the valve I’ll reboot the air purifying system."

He could hear the strained smile in her tone. If he hadn’t already known that everything was being broadcast live her voice would have made it absolutely clear.

A blast of air hit him hard enough to nearly knock him over. Thank christ no one else was on the comms to hear the cursing.

How did this keep happening? He should have never been near that fire on Avenue 3. Hell, he should have poured gasoline on it. He’d certainly not be in this situation, or the other ones he’d already had to deal with on Avenue 5. Maybe the ship _was_ made of tinfoil.

Billie’s voice was low enough that he could barely hear it over all of the other sounds and was obviously meant only for him to hear.

“You would think at this point you’d be used to this.”  
  
“Does anyone with a functioning will to live get used to this?”

“It’s good to know yours is still intact.”

He couldn’t tell if it was wryness or amused annoyance in her voice and he would have made some comment to try to ferret it out but he’d found what he thought was the synthesizer valve.

“Is this thing labelled? Is anything on this bloody _ship_ labelled in English?”

“Well, it looks like a valve and the label is sort of a… stick figure, I guess, with two additional lines coming out of it.”

“Oh, good, right, because there’s no possible variety in that description.”

The comment was met with silence. If it was meant to let him focus it miraculously worked.

“I think I’ve found it…” Considering how fragile the ship seemed to be in the first place it seemed worth asking. “How bad will things be if I haven’t found it?”

“... well…”

“Don’t say ‘very’.”

The comms were completely silent. It matched nicely with the rising panic in his voice.

“... I swear to all that is good and holy, Billie…”

“Can you just clear the air a little and try to focus your helmet cam on the valve you’re looking at?”

“Oh, right, I hadn’t thought of that.” He waved his hand in front of the helmet rapidly, barely able to see it himself, beyond certain the staticy helmet cam feed would be worthless. “Did that fucking help?”

Despite everything he thought he heard her laugh. He didn’t have time to wonder if he was right; a second later she gasped into the comm.

“That’s it! I mean--” 

He heard her clear her voice and her tone change back to the calm voice everyone had likely come to expect in these scenarios. Just like his own, actually, when he was on deck during one of the seemingly-endless emergencies.

“You’re definitely in the right place. There should be a valve on your left. As soon as you _turn it to the right_ , I’ll reset the system. I’ll wait until you’re _holding onto the railing_ next to it.”

There was something about that he didn’t like. That same warning crept into his voice.

“Why.”

Her own voice lowered again.

“Just hold on. You’ll be fine.”

Cringing, he reached forward and gripped the valve anyway, turning it as directed. There was a loud hiss as the tunnel began to fill with steam and he let go of it, immediately grasping for the railing that he couldn’t even see. Against all odds he found it just as Billie’s voice came through again, harder to hear.

“Are you ready, Captain?”

“Absolutely not.”

Whether or not she heard the abject terror in his voice through the hissing of steam he wasn’t sure, but it didn’t seem to matter. His fingers clenched tighter as she started to count down from three and within a few seconds he couldn’t hear anything but the roar of toxic air as it vented out to space through one of the shafts that--he assumed--had to be just enough for a Captain to have fit through if he weren’t holding on to some flimsy, definitely-not-safe-enough railing.

Everything went quiet and he was still holding to the metal with a death grip when the comm came back on with the sound of static briefly hiding the cheering that served as a background to Billie’s voice as she finally came through.

“Great job, Captain. System’s stable, all oxygen filtration and production working as intended.”

He barely had a voice. What he did have was hoarse and dry. 

“Thank christ.”

“I’m sending one of the engineers to meet you partway.”

“You make it sound like a rescue mission.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

He finally let go of the railing and started stumbling, exhausted, back down the cramped--but visible--passage.

“Only in that it makes me sound too incompetent to walk in a straight line.”

The cheering had died down enough for him to hear her laugh more clearly.

“They’re bringing bourbon.”

“Well in that case, rescue away.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just a short lil fic that I needed to get out of my system because I uhhhhhhhh want them to kiss really badly. like, let's be honest, the show is practically begging me to do it. about 8-10 chapters, many longer than this one. just wanted to get the story going.
> 
> comments loved :3


	2. Chapter 2

Even if people seemed to be getting a little exhausted of them there was always a celebration of some kind after the near-misses, or as Billie liked to think of it, thank-god-we-didn’t-die parties. This time was no different. There were the usual relieved passengers, the supposed ‘crew’, and everyone who just wanted an excuse to drink. Actually, a lot of people fit into that category.

She’d stayed above decks for a little while before it was made clear that despite Ryan’s best efforts no one was interested in acknowledging her, let alone giving her any gratitude whatsoever for her contribution to the whole effort. She snatched the unopened bottle of champagne from his hand and shrugged at him when he looked at her with a strange expression made only more difficult to figure out when she gave him a brisk wave. Even if he didn’t get the meaning of it he didn’t seem too terribly upset; his eyebrows raised as if in a shrug. It wasn’t as if there weren’t plenty of drinks to go around. It was nice to know she didn’t need to offer an explanation—he probably had an inkling of why she was retreating already. Being around the gloating crew and the completely ignorant passengers didn’t exactly bring out the best in her.

She made her way below decks.

“Yo guys—”

Pushing the door open with her hip, she raised the bottle of champagne as everyone came into view, all either at their different workstations or huddled in small, informal groups that made it clear that absolutely no work was going on. Each of them lifted their head as the door shut behind her and she kept walking, already gripping the cork and twisting, working to remove it from the bottle.

“Who wants some champagne? Judd has a few bottles going around as part of the ‘celebration’ or whatever.”

She did her best at air quotes with her fingers still around the bottle before returning to opening it, not bothering to wait for an answer before the cork came out with a satisfying ‘pop’. Cyrus, Ella, and the others looked at her before glancing toward one-another and shrugging, all of them abandoning their desks in favor of gathering their mugs, still coffee-stained. It would have to do.

Cyrus was first in line, holding up his mug as she poured a small amount in.

“I’m surprised they even let you up there. To the parties, I mean.” She glanced up to his unfortunately-unavoidable face as he went on. “I would have thought anyone in a shirt that cost less than five-hundred bucks would have been kicked out on sight.”

She rolled her eyes as she poured for Ella.

“I’m there because I’m invisible. Also, you’re just saying that because you get half of your clothes from a lost and found box.”

He raised his eyebrows, unaffected. “Even if I dressed like a movie star or something you know I wouldn’t be allowed top-deck. Not at some kind of party, anyway.”

“Because you’re not even remotely capable of acting like an actual human being. It’s either robot or cro-magnon. It’s like there’s somehow no in-between.” 

She waved a hand front of his face as if it illustrated something, already starting to feel irritated. Somehow he was still unphased.

“It’s funny you should say that, because you don’t exactly behave like you belong, either.”

Her eyebrows raised in warning, still holding a mug in one hand and the champagne bottle in the other. “Um, excuse me?”

“Didn’t you yell at all of the passengers once? I think you called them all idiots.”

“Oh, you know you would have too.”

“Whoah, whoah, whoah. Calm down there, She-Hulk.”

“I’m…” She stopped herself, taking a deep breath as she put down the champagne bottle. “... going to calmly take a drink now.”

She could hear Ella laugh. More satisfyingly, out of the corner of her eye she saw Cam launch a piece of balled up paper at Cyrus, hitting him on the side. The drink was clearly an attempt to abandon the conversation. She lifted her mug, took in some of the liquid, and immediately spit it back into the mug with a gag.

“Oh my god. _Oh_ my god. This is _horrible_.”

Cyrus looked down and raised his eyebrows before taking a drink as well. “I don’t know. It doesn’t seem bad to me.”

She looked at him in disbelief for a moment and, deciding reality had abandoned her for the time being, made the call to find somewhere else to be. Naturally she couldn’t just leave. Cyrus had to wedge in some commentary just as she was turning.

“If you haven’t figured it out, you get to be social top-deck because someone’s playing favorites.”

Her mouth still felt disgusting from the drink. She dragged her tongue across her teeth, trying to get rid of the taste. “What, Judd?”

He made a smug sound, something close to a laugh. “No. I’m talking about Clark.”

“Ryan?” She looked at him strangely. “I mean I’d hope so, considering how many times I’ve saved his ass.”

“Nah. It’s not that.”

Cam piped up. “Come on, Cyrus. Back off.” She narrowed her eyes at him with a shrug. “I don’t even see it, anyway. Billie’s kind of made herself indispensable from day one.”

“He is, though. Trust me on this one.”

“Whatever.” The other woman paused, seemingly thinking something over before shrugging again with arched brows. “He’s actually pretty cool. Well. Funny, at least.”

Billie gave up with a sigh, but at least it seemed she’d been given a window to escape. “How about you guys just appreciate the drink I bought you and I try to find someplace less annoying.”

She stared directly at Cyrus with the words and he—unfortunately—smiled.

It was time to get the hell out. She didn’t know where she was going, but it was anywhere she wouldn’t have to deal with cheap shots and cheaper champagne.

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


She found herself back at the bar. The thought had occurred to her that Jordan’s set was probably going to be starting soon, and while earlier in the day she’d planned on attending it, the near-catastrophe on the ship had altered pretty much everyone’s plans, forcing the comedian to start later than usual… if he was even going to get on stage at all. But she guessed he was likely contractually mandated to regardless of the hour, and it seemed as good an idea as any to try. And she was interested in what he might put out considering that they’d been meeting from time to time for drinks to help him work on his material.

She didn’t want to call them dates. She wouldn’t call them dates. They weren’t dates.

… she knew he thought they were dates. She was still on the fence as to whether or not she minded.

She got a beer at the bar. Jordan was already on stage and clearly saw her walk in if the way he paused was any indication, and while no one seemed particularly engrossed in his show the way he gave her a small wave still made her shrink from the attention, giving the smallest possible gesture with her hand back to acknowledge the greeting. It was imperative that she find a place to sit down as soon as possible to avoid any further attention. She had found a table and was about to take a seat when she suddenly noticed Ryan across the room and raised her eyebrows—surprised he was still there—and quickly changed course to head toward him.

He didn’t notice her even if it was clear he was paying it no attention to the set; during her walk over she noted the way he seemed focused very closely on his bracelet, seeming to alternate between typing and scrolling even while holding a beer in his hand. He stopped abruptly when she sat down directly next to him and raised his head to see who it was, the both of them facing the stage.

He reacted with a raised eyebrow.

“Where have _you_ been?”

“I snuck away.”

“With my champagne.” He lowered his head back to the bracelet with a shudder, typing in a few more letters. The words sounded absolutely genuine. “Thanks for that.”

She was a little puzzled by the tone. “I didn’t think you’d mind.”

“... did you try it?”

Oh. Right. No wonder he hadn’t minded much. The memory came back and she scrunched her nose with distaste.

“It was terrible. Does Judd make it out of sweaty socks?”

“Don’t ask me. And don’t ask me how many times I’ve had to choke down a glass of that stuff during one of his parties.” Her breath came out as a huff of a laugh and she took in another, about to comment when he cut her off, voice wry. “Even I have my limits.”

She laughed, for real. He finished whatever he was working on and swiped the bracelet, sending it back to the home screen, lifting his bottle of beer for a drink and glancing toward her.

“I didn’t expect to see you back.”

“Cyrus was…” She narrowed her eyes, trying to think of the right word. “Extant.”

“Ah, that beautiful man-child. Long may he live.”

She stifled the laugh with a drink of her beer and found herself smiling as she went on. “I figured I’d rather be up here than down there.”

“Despite the comedy?”

She narrowed her eyes and tipped her beer in his direction, pointing in warning. “I’m here _for_ the comedy.”

Both eyebrows arched high as he looked back to her in an obvious look of surprise.

“ _For_ the comedy…” He considered her for a moment before apparently deciding she was a lost cause, gesturing to the window behind the comedian. “You might want to consider the airlock because you’ll likely find more of it out there.”

Her snort had meant to hide her amusement as offense, but it didn’t quite work, particularly given the way her voice lilted playfully over the words.

“Hey. He’s objectively funny sometimes.”

Ryan raised an eyebrow and for a second looked genuinely curious, glancing toward the stage to actually listen to the other man, the both of them finally paying Jordan some attention. He was struggling through trying to set something up, glancing over the occupied tables with an expression of downtrodden fear, as if he were somehow resigned to his fate yet still terrified of it all at once.

“What do you call it when you combine chips and trainers?” There was dead silence from the room. Jordan took a too-long moment, looking over the few faces in the bar before finishing lamely, leaning too far into the microphone with his same unconfident mutter. “You get broken crisps.” There was a moment of absolute silence as he leaned into the mic a bit more desperately. “Because you’ve stepped on the crisps… you know.”

Billie laughed, surprising even herself, and after a moment of satisfaction glanced toward Ryan. He was looking at her strangely.

“See? That was funny.”

Rather than respond he leaned toward her and took her beer carefully from her hand, peering down into the bottle as if looking for something. “Have you been drugged?”

She snatched the bottle back from him with a smirk as he went on.

“If this is some kind of blackmail situation I can help. Just blink twice.”

The snort was dangerously close to a laugh and she smothered it, determined not to let him win but having some difficulty sounding sarcastic all the same. “Ha ha ha. Just… don’t heckle him, okay?”

“Oh, do you really think I’d heckle the poor man?” Ryan’s tone was vaguely offended as he gestured toward the comedian. “He’s practically doing it to himself.”

She gave him a close, long look, thinking and narrowing an eye. “Yes.” Seeing him take a breath, she stopped him before he could rebut. “Not as a Captain, maybe. As in, not in uniform. But yes. You sort of have once, already.”

The comment turned a corner, taking them somewhere she hadn’t quite intended to go. For a moment he seemed genuinely offended, his eyes widening in disbelief and his shoulders raising in exasperation.

“I was _trying_ to stop someone from getting thrown into space.” He lifted his free hand to pinch his nose, she couldn’t tell if at the memory of being punched or simply in regret at having brought it up. “Christ, that was a night.”

He took a drink, seeming distracted for a second long enough that she took advantage of it. Jordan’s voice faded fully into the background, not even registering as a dull murmur anymore. She had no idea where the words came from or why she wasn’t aware of the fact she was saying them until it was too late.

“Sarah was pretty drunk.”

He took a deep breath and glanced toward her, seemingly recovering. It was something he did quickly, it seemed. 

“The in-character or the not-in-character one?”

“I think the out-of-character one.”

“Oh, god. Somehow that’s worse.”

Within the short period of time his lips had curled upward in a faint smile and she returned it mindlessly, going on without thinking.

“She had some, ah… interesting things to say.”

He quirked an eyebrow in obvious curiosity. “What did she say?”

“She was talking about how—”

Billie blinked, suddenly remembering the road she was going down. Was she really going to say that Sarah had said he was a womanizer? Or a ‘maninizer’. Or that he’d ‘ _put a baby inside her_ ’? She shuddered at the unexpected thought and rushed through the words.

“You know what? Nevermind.” 

Feeling suddenly nervous and not sure why, she took a stiff drink. She could see him looking strangely at her from the corner of her eyes and swallowed, deciding she needed to finish with something else. 

“It’s nothing worth mentioning.”

He only paused for a moment longer before shrugging carelessly and lifting his drink toward her, clearly a gesture meant to let her tap her own bottle against his and brush the topic aside.

“I won’t argue with that. Frankly the less I hear about Sarah the better. The woman is a walking nightmare.”

Their bottles tapped together with a light _clink_ and they both looked back to the stage. It was strange. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t known that Sarah—whether in-character or not—was full of it, but it was a relief to hear him verify it. A surprisingly big relief. Probably a relief big enough that she should give it a little more thought, and her eyes narrowed with it. She reminded herself she was supposed to be paying attention and refocused herself on Jordan, determined to listen to at least some part of his set.

They settled into a quiet, both paying at least a modicum of attention to the man on stage, but she was pretty sure neither of them were hearing it. It seemed like more of an excuse to finish their drinks in a comfortable silence until it was over.

And then it _was_ over. She hadn’t planned for it at all, what might happen once Jordan had finished the set, and as he muttered his thanks to the audience she saw his eyes lift to her and his feet hesitate at the mic even as he let it go. And she realized he intended to walk over.

Oh god. 

For some reason it made her muscles stiff with anxiety and, not sure how to wave politely while also silently begging someone not to come any closer, she gritted her teeth in the best smile she could and lowered her eyes, typing a quick message into her bracelet.

_Call you later._

Jordan lowered his eyes to his wrist, appeared to read something, and lifted his head to look back at her. For a second he paused as if he might come over anyway and she had a moment of strange panic—wondering if she’d sent the message to the wrong person, if he’d somehow gotten a different one, or whatever other infinite options her mind could come up with in the span of four seconds—before he hesitantly turned and walked off stage.

Her shoulders dropped as she breathed out a sigh of relief. The tail end of it was interrupted by Ryan’s voice.

“Are you sure you weren’t just laughing out of pity?”

She was back to reality. Back to her bottle of beer—well, what was left of it—and back to sitting comfortably next to Ryan and back to an easy-if-slightly-combative conversation that allowed her to smirk even while narrowing her eyes at him, immediately feeling like she had her feet under herself again.

“We can’t all be blessed with your natural charm and wit.”

It was a compliment and she didn’t realize it until a moment afterward, narrowing her eyes in displeasure at herself. She shouldn’t give any of those to him—it wasn’t in the spirit of any of it. But she bit her tongue and moved past it quickly, hoping he didn’t really notice.

“He did a good impression of…” She paused, thinking, and found herself unable to remember. “Richard Nixon? I think. Or maybe it was Bill Clinton. One of the presidents.”

Ryan snorted. “It must have been an exceptionally good impression.”

She looked at him with lips curved in displeasure and he shrugged. 

“Saying something in a funny voice doesn’t make it comedy.”

“Well you’re in trouble, then.”

“… are you referring to the fact that I’m English?” He was staring at her in apparent bafflement. “Is the English accent a ‘funny voice’ to you?”

His response was gratifying enough that she saw no reason to back off, already fighting off a smile. “... well it was kind of funny when I heard it the first time.” She cleared her throat. “Aside from the whole. Dire situation thing. And when I hear it after you’ve been in ‘Captain’ mode for a while.”

He’d started to look vaguely offended, an expression that she was fairly certain wasn’t real, and her grin broke out anyway as she went on with a self-pleased raise of her eyebrows.

“ _And_ when something on the ship’s gone wrong and you’re panicking.” She slipped into a terrible iteration of an English accent, herself, leaning in slightly as she mocked him, intending it to be light. “Oh, the ship’s engines are failing, I’m going to be cross about it, Billie, please help me.”

He narrowed one eye and spoke in a voice that was impressively dry. “Yes, alright. So… all the time. My entire being is amusing to you, I understand.”

She burst into a laugh, truly—the loud, gasping kind. It was something in his tone—the sulkiness of it that she couldn’t possibly believe. She was forced to cover her mouth.

Despite his attempt to look offended she could see the faint grin that it seemed he briefly tried to control as he made another quick swipe at his bracelet. It took a moment but her laughter died out and, after looking down into his empty bottle, he took in a deep breath and sighed.

“Well that’s it for me tonight. As it turns out, being a hero and Captain is a twenty-four hour job, and I’m learning that apparently I should take the sleep when I can get it.”

He pushed himself back and out of his seat, his fingers leaving the bottle last as if in regret it was empty. She looked down at her own bottle and realized she’d been nursing what was left of it, frowning down into it. She might abandon it after he was gone. Especially if Jordan answered the call she’d promised to make by showing up. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to see him, it was simply late. Like Ryan had said.

Still, she snorted quietly at him and rolled her eyes. “I’m pretty sure you could be a ‘hero Captain’ in your sleep.” Blinking, she realized the possible meaning of it and quickly corrected herself, sounding a little desperate to make it seem disparaging. She’d already unintentionally complimented him once and this one was worse: it was completely, laughably false. “By which I mean… I could do everything and you could just. Be asleep.”

It landed about as well as one of Jordan’s jokes and she laughed awkwardly at herself, taking a drink and emptying the bottle in one go, following it up with a careful clearing of her throat and going on hurriedly.

“Anyway, I should go too.”

She pushed herself up likewise and didn’t quite manage to hold back her stretch, realizing that she _was_ actually tired. It was satisfying, so she let it linger a little while longer before her muscles went slack and she set her hand on her hip, the other lifting to point at him in a way that she realized only a second later was incredibly out of place.

“I’m sure I’ll see you in the morning when something else blows up.”

He lifted his head back with a groan. “Oh, don’t say that… I was already looking forward to a quiet day of fixing the menial emergencies, like…” He paused to think, looking exhausted enough at the thought that she was sure he wasn’t making anything up. “... one of the jacuzzis excreting too many bubbles.”

She laughed, knowing she shouldn’t, and then cleared her throat to quiet herself as he fixed her with a well-meaning glare. “In that case I’ll let you go. Maybe tomorrow it will be the towels again, instead.”

He shuddered, raised his hands to button the top two buttons of his collar, and turned to walk away, uttering a pleasant, American-accented greeting to one of the passengers as they lifted a toast to him.

And she was alone. Or at least, alone save for eight or nine patrons still at the bar. She lowered her eyes to her wrist and saw her message history, the window still open to the text she’d sent to Jordan. Her lips quirked downward in one corner and she took a breath, releasing it as a sigh as she typed out a new message.

_It’s late. Talk tomorrow._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chapter might be pretty short, but followed by another longer one (this length or longer). sorry! when I planned these out they were more balanced but what're you gonna do?


	3. Chapter 3

It wasn’t an emergency, per se. Or at least, it wasn’t one _yet_.

A part, of course, had broken, but this time at least it wasn’t anything that involved critical systems like oxygen production or ventilation or radiation shielding or god knew what else. For the moment it was just a piece of metal rattling around where it shouldn’t be. It made it much easier to tell Ryan.

He still didn’t react terribly well.

“Tit-shitting _bollocks_.“

Ryan dragged his hands down his face with an exasperated sigh but it seemed to at least help him recover; he took a deep breath as he composed himself with his hands lifted at his sides, briefly closing his eyes and letting the words escape on his exhalation.

“It’s going to be alright.”

“It _is_.”

Billie had thought her input might be helpful but he opened his eyes to stare at her with an obvious lack of appreciation. She tried again with less patience.

“No, it’s alright… it’s going to be fine. This doesn’t have to be some big thing, Judd doesn’t even have to know.”

“He’d better not have to know. I’d rather him not ‘have to know’ anything aside from one, we’re on a ship, and two, it’s in space, and frankly I think for him even _that’s_ something of a challenge.”

She snorted, caught it before it became a laugh, and held it tightly between grinning teeth. But it seemed he’d relaxed, at least for the most part; when he went on it was with calmly raised eyebrows and a more even tone.

“Can’t someone else do it? One of the other engineers?”

“They need to be monitoring the systems.” 

He looked at her for a long moment, clearly debating before he said it anyway.

“... can’t you go?”

“Wow, thanks.”

“You know what you’re doing.”

“It’s narrow down there. It’s safer to go in pairs. So you’d be going _with_ me.”

“Wait…” He narrowed his eyes at her, searching. “... why didn’t I get a second? With the oxygen synthesizer.”

“We only had one suit.” 

He still didn’t seem entirely convinced and she raised her eyebrows in irritation. “Do you want me to go get someone from the crew? Maybe Nadiya? I’m sure Sarah would be _super_ helpful.”

“Admittedly, I haven’t been called ‘helpful’ in a while. Other things, maybe, but definitely not that.” He paused and briefly looked grim. “Things like ‘shithouse’, mostly.”

Billie sighed. “Look. You’re the only one I can rely on here.”

His voice was a low mutter that she wasn’t even sure she was meant to hear. “That’s a terrible indictment of everyone on this ship.”

Her lips curved downward in a frown and after a moment of apparent contemplation his did the same, and the words eventually escaped him despite the groan of resignation that she began to suspect was slightly exaggerated.

“Alright. Let’s do it.”

She broke into a grin and punched him lightly on the arm. “Attaboy.” 

It didn’t quite look like he appreciated the encouragement but it only made her smile more broadly.

“Let’s go get suited up.”

“There are more suits?”

His expression was so downtrodden that she laughed and took a few steps backward, starting the trek to the lower decks.

“No. I just wanted to see your face when I mentioned them.”

He fixed her with a glare but started following after her all the same. ”It’s like you’re _trying_ to convince me not to go with you.”

She laughed. “We’ll see how it goes.”

* * *

“You might want to take that off.”

They were below-decks in the engineering room, just where it began to branch off into the various maintenance tunnels. He looked at her oddly and she gestured toward him again.

“Your jacket.”

He tugged at the cuffs of his sleeves regretfully.

“But it makes me look so much more official.”

It took her a second to catch the sarcasm and she raised an eyebrow but it was hard to hide the amusement on her face, lowering her tone to jab back at him.

“I don’t think you need to look official where we’re going. There’s no cameras this time, at least. And it’s not like you’re fooling me, anyway.”

“Ouch.”

She looked at him with a smirk as he went on.

“Looking competent is halfway to being competent.”

“Has that ever worked for you?”

“Surprisingly, yes. Do you not remember how it was going before everything went to shit?”

… he was right. But she didn’t have to tell him. Her expression narrowed as she over-emphasized the word.

“Alright, _Captain_. Let’s get going.”

She unzipped her jumpsuit and peeled it off to her hips, tying the arms around her waist to keep it secured and to keep the shirt she was wearing under it in place as she glanced back toward him to see if he was ready. He was looking at her intently, hands stalled on the buttons of his jacket, but he made quick enough work of them and—after a moment of indecision—draped the garment over the back of a chair reluctantly.

“I’m hoping that stays clean. That sort of thing doesn’t seem like a top priority to your fellow technicians.”

She corrected him. “ _Engineers_. And I feel like that should be the least of your worries. Don’t you have more than one?”

“That’s my favorite one.”

“You have favorites of the exact same outfit?”

“Yes.”

“Wow. You’re strange.”

She looked at him with a laughing voice and narrowed an eye in judgment and received the same expression in return.

“I don’t have to explain myself to you. You’re the one who enjoys terrible comedy.”

“That was _one_ joke.”

“Frankly I’m not even sure it counts as one.”

Billie rolled her eyes as hard as she could and turned forward, starting toward the maintenance tunnel and simply assuming he’d follow. She heard his footsteps behind her within a few seconds. The walkway was narrow just as she’d warned him and he trailed behind her as they went. Despite the sound of their footsteps on the grated metal floor it was easy to hear his voice.

“Being useful, as it turns out, isn’t that terrible.”

“We’ve been in here for like ten minutes.”

“So far so good.”

“Mm. You should try it more often.”

He responded with a snort and she went on.

“At any rate this will hopefully be a less terrifying type of helpful.”

He took in a deep breath and sighed, sounding tired. “You just _had_ to include that ‘hopefully’. If this ends up going south I am going to find someone to blame. Specifically: you.”

She glanced over her shoulder at him and grinned; his lips curled upward in a rare grin of his own that she narrowed an eye at suspiciously before she turned forward again.

“It’s a shame you can’t just be the figurehead and I can be the hero.”

“That was a brilliant plan. I liked that plan. Whatever happened to that plan?”

“Avenue 3.”

“Ugh. Maybe you could at least be Captain and I could be… well. A morale-booster.”

She choked on a laugh.

“You’re usually _fantastic_ at that.” Unable to help herself, she looked back at him again, grinning, and they shared the expression again before hers began abruptly fading and she faced forward, determining she’d rather not see the disappointment even if it was obvious in her voice.

“I don’t know. People don’t seem that interested in me being a hero, nevermind Captain.”

“Hm.”

There was quiet for a while. His voice was surprisingly sincere.

“You would think being in my position I’d be able to get them to recognize you a bit more.”

She hadn’t been looking for affirmation. Or she thought she hadn’t been. But it was remarkably nice to get.

“It’s alright.”

“I’ve tried.”

“I know.”

But it wasn’t something she liked to linger on, or at least not after the first time when she got a long, healthy—and drunk—rant out of the way about it that ultimately had no effect. Given that it seemed pointless to dwell on much longer she shook it off.

“Come on. We’re almost there.”

It didn’t take much longer before she was focusing down on her bracelet and the readings it was giving off, slowing to a near-stop as she followed the signals. Ryan hovered close, she could tell attempting to read the output over her shoulder, and she actually raised her head to glance up at him, holding her wrist in better view.

“The orange is the titanium It shows up so well because it’s a much more dense metal than the fans.”

He nodded, clearly listening sincerely.

Unable to stop herself, she raised an eyebrow and looked at him as best she could from the angle. “You do understand density, correct?”

His eyebrows lowered as he looked down at her with obvious annoyance. “Yes, I know what density is, Billie.”

“Oh, thank god.” She gave him an exaggerated grin before looking back down, her attention fully on the bracelet again. “Anyway, it looks like the closest access point is…” She turned, adjusted, and took a few steps before lifting her head to find the access grate. “Here.”

She didn’t waste any time in getting to work; she undid the tool belt around her waist and placed it on the floor as she pulled out the screwdriver, starting to open up the grate to the vent. It didn’t take long. She shoved the screws she removed toward him, cupped between both hands.

“You should put those in your pocket.”

He did as told as she tugged at the toolbelt on the ground again, swapping out the screwdriver with a small flashlight, screwing the top of it to the right to turn it on.

“Alright. Let’s do this.”

She was about to stick the end of the flashlight between her teeth to hold it there but he interrupted.

“You’re going _in the vent_?”

“Well… not _in_ the vent. Just sort of… _reaching_ into the vent.”

“I _have_ to have longer reach than you do.”

“Yes, but you don’t know what you’re looking for.”

“You said it was a loose part rattling around. I think I can identify that.”

“I’d just rather do it myself, okay?”

It was a strange look he gave her. She was pretty sure there was concern in it but there was most definitely doubt. She gave him a firm one instead, not about to be dissuaded. He didn’t say anything more.

Sticking the unlit end of the flashlight between her teeth, she placed her hands on the edge of the vent and leaned into it, poking her head inside. Her shoulders followed without too much trouble. She had to go a little deeper than she’d thought to get a view down either side of the small tunnel, and she reached her hand into the space with her with a bit of difficulty to take the flashlight from her mouth, trying to get a look as far as she could down each side of the mini-corridor. Ryan’s voice was muffled but she could hear it all the same.

“I’m assuming everything’s going as planned.”

She huffed a breath of air that sent a small plume of dust coiling upward in front of her face and answered, irritated.

“Well I was hoping it would be right here.” There was silence. She could only assume she was being judged. “As in, within easy reach.”

“Mm. Sounds like not-at-all-an-issue.”

Muttering with irritation, she pushed herself back out of the shaft and into the open air to glare at him with an additional wave of the flashlight in warning.

“It’s not. I just have to go in a little farther.”

“That seems like an exceptionally bad idea.”

“It’s really not.”

He raised an eyebrow doubtfully and she responded with a deep groan.

“Look. I’m just going to go in a little further and look down either side, alright? We’re talking a foot, maximum.”

The doubtful look morphed slowly to something more suspicious as he answered carefully.

“... and then you’ll get stuck and run out of oxygen while I’m attempting to get help and we’ll have to entomb you here forever. Just like all the other bodies we seem to have floating around... literally. Or figuratively..”

She snorted. 

“I won’t run out of oxygen.”

“Why?”

“Because that’s not how it works.”

He narrowed an eye and she narrowed both back.

“Just don’t let me get stuck and Bob’s your uncle or whatever, we finish up and get back to life as usual.”

“Ah. That sounds…” He wavered purposefully over the words and let them fall like a dead weight. “... incredibly enticing. Maybe I’ll let you suffocate in a vent after all.”

She smirked.

Despite the sarcasm he lifted a hand in obvious invitation for her to go ahead, and she placed her hands on the edge of the vent once again with the flashlight in her mouth, pulling herself up and into the small space awkwardly. When her toes were barely touching the ground she pulled the flashlight away from her mouth.

“A little help? Like I said, not too far.”

It was a relief when she slipped in fairly easily, suggesting that despite the cramped conditions it wouldn’t be too difficult to get out, and once the mild anxiety of it was out of the way she was free to focus on the task at hand.

She could see it once her shoulders were at the branch in the main passage. A fist-sized shape of metal just a short distance away, miraculously free of any barriers, not stuck in anything, and not half-sunken in the relatively fragile metal of the vents from dropping into them, which would be damage that required fixing.

“Oh thank god.”

The murmur was meant to be to herself but she heard some muffled response from Ryan and opted to ignore it, reaching for the part instead. 

Her fingertips brushed it. She cursed. Loudly.

Wriggling forward, she tried again and made slightly more contact. And then, calculating carefully so that she didn’t simply end up pushing it farther away, she lunged as best she could and caught an edge of it between her fingertips, dragging it toward herself with a triumphant whoop. The meaning of that, at least, seemed clear. She couldn’t hear Ryan’s words but the tone of his voice was encouraging. Just in case he hadn’t fully gotten the message she reached up and banged her fist twice on the roof of the vent above her and yelled.

“Got it! Pull me out!”

Both sounds reverberated in her ears enough that she somewhat regretted them, but she began moving in a steady slide backward. Until suddenly she wasn’t. There was the clip and drag of something near her stomach and she could hear the metallic-sounding _click_ of it as she came to a sudden halt, grunting with surprise. Holding the part in her right hand and the flashlight in her left, her eyes roved the ceiling of the vent as if it might answer the question of why she wasn’t moving. Ryan answered instead. His voice was only slightly muffled.

“... Billie…”

“What?”

“Which belt are you wearing?”

She didn’t answer. He tried again, leading in a way that suggested she wasn’t going to like what he was going to say.

“Is it the one with the absolutely massive buckle?”

Granted it wasn’t your typical belt, or rather it wasn’t a belt at all—the safety webbing around her waist and threaded through the scavenged ‘buckle’ marked with the word ‘pull’—but the webbing was great for anchoring in a pinch and it was original and it was hers and she liked it. Or at least, she usually liked it. She wasn’t very fond of it at the moment. She hesitated, not really wanting to confirm it.

“... yes.”

“It seems—” His voice was both irritated and chiding, an I-told-you-so of both concern and inconvenience as he tugged on her once again, only for her to catch just like before. “—it’s gotten stuck on the rim inside the vent.”

She snorted in response, partially in simple reflex to his tone, but she still had the presence of mind to absorb the words and she returned his irritation with a quiet mutter to herself.

“You have _got_ to be kidding me.”

Rather than answer him verbally she obstinately inched forward a bit, tried to shift her hips to the side, and wriggled backward again with the same result. She went limp with a deep sigh. She was close enough that she didn’t need to yell but she did it anyway.

“Well…” She could hear the irritation in her own voice and took a breath, even if it didn’t make her sound any less annoyed. “Do something about it.”

“Can’t you untie your sleeves?”  
  
“What?”

“They’re in the bloody way of everything.”

“My hands are in front of me. You know, because of the reaching.”

He muttered something inaudible and she felt his arm curl around her legs at the knees, giving her another tug as if it might have a different effect. But it didn’t, and she heard his deep sigh before things went still. For a long moment there was absolute silence, long enough that she began to wonder if he was still there. And she was about to say his name just to be sure when she felt a touch below her hips, a grip into the fabric of her jumpsuit. It didn’t stay long. The faint warmth started moving inward as his hands continued that blind search, and she felt it as it found the buckle and gave it a hard outward tug toward her hip-bone, apparently trying to shift it to the side to either free her or to make the buckle more accessible. It was a hard enough pull to be jarring and she sounded indignant from the shock of it and the vague concern for her belt.

“Hey—”

He must have forseen it coming. He cut her off in a voice that was both authoritative and impatient. “What do you want me to do, leave you in there?”

It wasn’t a tone of voice she’d heard before. Her jaws snapped shut and she froze. The belt hadn’t moved, regardless. Tied too tightly in fabric that was too thick, it refused to go anywhere. The new position had forced a closeness on them—his body was pressed against her lower thigh, his upper arms against her legs as well, and it was maybe worse in that each touch seemed carefully deliberate, as if he were deeply aware of each one. She was certain it was because he was trying his best to apply them only as needed, as if each were meant to be as efficient as possible, but it didn’t much matter; her fingers curled a bit more tightly around the flashlight and the part she’d retrieved in her other hand as she tried to keep her spine from going rigid and her muscles tensing. She was more or less successful but she failed horrifically at keeping her breath even and deep, it coming out in small, shallow pulses instead.

After his lack of progress she instead felt his fingers wedge their way to what they could reach of the belt itself. It was obvious very quickly that there would be nothing substantial that it could do but she could feel too clearly the way his fingers worked on the buckle and the webbing with the attempt, careful and slow and searching before it ended with a muttered curse that she somehow failed to fully catch. Changing tactics, his hands moved again, fingers curling around each hip bone and searching more carefully for an angle that might be more agreeable. And while she’d tried to go limp—and stay that way—it wasn’t necessarily meant to help him, but rather to keep herself from going completely, revealingly rigid. 

As he maneuvered her she felt the belt catch once more and then twist slightly and, seeming to know he’d found the solution, he pulled on her hips. It was firm without being forceful but with her body relaxed the second the belt was no longer an obstruction she immediately cleared the passage—and kept moving backward. There wasn’t far to go but she hadn’t prepared for it and the momentum took her with it. 

It took her a second to register where she even was.

One of Ryan’s arms was wrapped around her torso, his hand settled on her ribs. They were both sitting on the metal walkway to varying degrees; at some point her back had been pulled against his chest and her legs were splayed in front of them and she realized she was nestled between Ryan’s as he sat behind her, a cushion for the majority of her weight. His other hand must have been propping him up. She had completely rag-dolled her way out of the tight space, though most of it was Ryan’s help. Or rather, probably all of it.

He pulled his other hand away and it disappeared behind him as well. They were both breathing a bit heavy but it was otherwise absolute silence, completely still, and it took her too long to realize it—in fact, it took the sound of the gentle clearing of his throat to snap her back to where they were.

She scrambled upward too-quickly and what immediately hit her as she got to her feet was a loud, gasping laugh—a deeply awkward thing that she briefly tried to swallow and it only made it worse. She managed to kill it by taking deeper breaths and clinging to the part in her hand as she stepped a good few feet away, facing him with her back against the railing and trying to turn off the flashlight with the other hand occupied with mixed results. Once it was off she stuffed it in her pocket and raised the hunk of metal in the air, giving it a brief shake.

“Got it.”

He’d stood up while she was orienting herself and patted an unfortunate bit of dust on the thigh of his trousers before giving her a smile that looked a little uncertain of itself, his own breath somewhat short before he swallowed and found his voice.

“Bravo.” After a moment he held up a hand in obvious request for it. “That's it?”

Despite the closeness she was relieved he was focusing on the part and tried to do the same. “Yep. Just that.” 

She handed it to him so that he could look it over. 

“So it’s not an issue that it’s fallen off of something.”

“Nope.”

“... why do we even have this, then?”

“Why do we have half the things Judd put on this ship?”

A lame laugh burst from her and she paused, glancing up and down over his form before realizing she’d taken too long to do it, and started babbling in an attempt to compensate.

“... I should put the grate back on.”

“Ah, right. Wouldn’t want anything getting in there and rattling around.”

The vent gave her something to focus on even if it couldn’t keep all of the anxiousness out of her. The words helped a bit more.

“You know, this exact same thing happened in Michigan, back in I think… the 1960s or something?” She spared a quick glance to him and, upon finding no recognition on his face, began to reconsider it. But it was too late to just not talk about it. She cleared her throat and tried to focus on screwing the grating closed, giving her words less attention as she went on. “They put in this last minute ‘safety’ device meant to prevent overheating from happening in a nuclear reactor and then it fell into the works and nearly blew up Detroit." She glanced toward him to check his reaction. “Pretty funny, right?”

“That’s... not exactly the word I would use, considering it just happened on _our_ ship.”

“Oh, our ship wouldn’t have blown up. A couple of things would have seized up and it would have been a pain in the ass to fix is all.”

“Ah. Well that’s much better.”

“Don’t worry. If anything comes up with the original part it will show up on diagnostics. This thing was just a redundancy”

“I wasn’t worried until you started talking about it being similar to a nuclear reactor but thank you for the clarification.”

Panel screwed back into place, she took a deep breath and released it in a huff of air that still felt anxious for reasons she didn’t understand or specifically didn’t want to think about.

His hands at her belt, working at the clasp slowly and deliberately.

She was jarred back to the present. He was holding the part out for her.

“So… not only pointless but potentially a disaster waiting to happen. I see.”

For once her tongue snapped back quickly.

“When you put it that way it sounds like someone I know.”

His eyebrows raised as he gave her a dry, unimpressed look, but he only got a well-meaning laugh from her. The nervousness wasn’t gone but it was slightly mitigated by his expression. Still, she didn’t want to leave it at that.

“Sorry. It was too hard to resist.”

He brushed past her, too-close, the narrowness of the passageway necessitating it but feeling as if it were done on purpose all the same. She trotted after with an attempt at offense, briefly distracted by another up-and-down look, catching glimpses of his hands as he moved, gesturing with his right as he spoke. It wasn’t as if she’d never _looked_ at him, particularly when he was in uniform, but then again it wasn’t often that she’d ended up lying on top of him. That was a new one, actually. Besides, she was usually focused more on what he was saying.

Coincidentally, his voice interrupted the thought and she wasn’t sure if she’d missed anything.

“You’re lucky I haven’t had you jettisoned yet.”

It took a slightly breathless laugh to recover but she trotted a bit faster to stay close, trying to lean into his field of view as they walked.

“You wouldn’t.”

“Locked you in the brig, maybe.”

“Do you even know where it is?”

“Surprisingly enough, yes. I know where everything on the ship is.”

“Ohh. Not so pointless after all.”

He came to a full stop and she nearly ran into him, having to stumble to a stop to avoid it. He looked over his shoulder at her, one eye narrowed, searching. She wasn’t sure for what, or of what, or if it was even anything genuine at all, but something about it was intimidating and she swallowed, standing slowly up straight as they entered a tenuous showdown. She knew her breath was short and she didn’t look particularly intimidating in return, especially when his expression managed to be entirely unmoving, but she was about to say something when he raised his hand and threw his thumb back toward the maintenance hub.

“Jettisoned, I think.”

She snorted, laughed, and threw her hands into his chest to push him away all at once, moving past him with a vengeful grin.

“Come on. The sooner we get out of here the sooner we can get a drink.”

Her bracelet beeped just as she was fully in front of him and she paused—stopped, actually—to look down at it and mindlessly uttered a soft curse.

“Shit…”

The instant alarm in his voice was obvious.

“Don’t tell me something’s gone wrong.”

“No… no, it’s not…”

‘Drinks with Jordan’ had sprung up on the screen and she looked down at it, trying to think. She hadn’t thought of it really, or rather, had forgotten it entirely. She bit her lip and started walking again, more hurriedly just in case by chance he might catch the words on her wrist. Even though she’d dismissed them. He sounded more curious than worried.

“I didn’t know we were in a hurry.”

The utmost importance seemed like keeping him from knowing why. She had no idea how to do that. Or why it seemed so important.

“I’m sure we’ve both got things we’re supposed to be getting back to.”

“Not anything I’m particularly keen on rushing to.”

Her brow furrowed as she tried to think of something to say and came up with nothing. She thought she heard hesitation when he spoke.

“What’s on your schedule?”

“Nothing particularly important.” She’d answered nearly fast enough to cut him off and it was a strange feeling that chased after. Something close to guilt, maybe. And then she was talking without even realizing it. “I’m… meeting with someone.” Why was she not shutting up? “Jordan.” Alarmed at herself, she at least tried to sound casual. “We’ve sort of been working on his sets together.”

Why did it matter? _Did_ it matter?

There was a dead silence but she was determined to not look back at him, instead focusing on her footsteps. She regretted bringing it up. Everything had been so easy for a short while there and she’d begun feeling anxious and awkward once again. She was just beginning to stew in it when his voice came to her casually from over her shoulder.

“Is that why it’s improved so much?”

It was like a blunt force against all of her anxiety and she turned to glare at him, nearly shoving him again but managing to hold herself back. The look might have been more effective if her lips weren’t pressed together to keep herself from smiling. Rather than keep looking at him and risk breaking she turned back forward and tried to think of a comeback. Nothing was coming and she’d waited too long—he was talking again.

“I would guess—”

He stopped himself abruptly. It was uncharacteristic enough that she glanced back toward him.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“No, what?” She raised an eyebrow, sincerely curious.

“It’s better to forget it. I’ve likely poked fun of the man enough for one day.”

She came to another stop and turned halfway to look at him, appraising.

“The idea of you having some kind of limit on that is pretty laughable in itself.”

He raised his hands to either side of himself.

“If you don’t want me to, I won’t.”

She stood still, looking at him. It seemed to be genuine. She was surprisingly grateful.

“... thank you.”

He lowered his head in a small nod.

“Thank you for the invitation.”

“The invitation…?”

“It was nice to feel useful.”

She fixed him with a somewhat bemused smile, still a little thrown off.

“Sure thing. Think you’ll want to help again sometime?”

“Let’s not get too ahead of ourselves.”

Her laugh was a bit quieter than the ones before, and while it was a silent rest of the journey back to the maintenance hub it was a comfortable kind. Some of the other engineers were still hanging around and Billie held the part up, not really expecting anyone to pay attention or say thanks, but still figuring it was worth it anyway. 

“Got it. Readings look good?”

“Yep. Saw you pull it out a little while ago. Thanks. It could’ve really caused some damage.”

It was hard to keep the sarcasm out of her voice. “Yeah, no problem.”

By the time she looked back to him Ryan had gathered his jacket and was nearly finished buttoning it closed and she looked at him a while longer before lowering her eyes to the part. There was no reason for her to. But she examined it while he started talking.

“Well, a Captain’s work is never done.” There was more than a little irony in it. She could see him in her peripheral vision looking down at his bracelet as he went on without enthusiasm. “Looks like I get another afternoon of babysitting Judd. Fantastic.” 

He lifted his head and she did the same to look at him as he raised his hand in a brisk, sardonic salute.

“At ease, crew.”

A couple of the engineers raised their hands in waves. He shifted his attention to her for a brisk smile before turning and walking out. She barely even had the chance to breathe before Cyrus’ voice broke, unfortunately, into her consciousness.

“I didn’t think you guys would be gone that long.”

There was more to it than the last time he’d brought it up as ‘playing favorites’. She turned her eyes to him, narrowing one in an appraising, unappreciative squint.

“Excuse me?”

“I’m just saying.”

“We ran into some technical difficulties.” Her voice was hard and clearly wouldn’t allow for argument, and she tossed the part at him. He fumbled it and dropped it nearly on his foot. At least it was good enough for a smirk.

But she had to go meet Jordan. Looking down at herself she found her shirt was dusty but it didn’t matter—she untied the sleeves at her waist, pulled the jumpsuit up, zipped it, rushed out of the room and topside.

  
  


* * *

  
  


She had briefly thought of apologizing for the not-entirely-clean jumpsuit but decided she didn’t much care. Luckily Jordan didn’t seem to notice, or if he did he didn’t say anything. That was definitely for the better; she was still feeling a little annoyed from having to deal with Cyrus.

The conversation had started awkwardly, which seemed to be common with him, and while it was weirdly a little endearing after a minute or so it started to smooth out and become more comfortable. Or at least it did until he started trying to be funny. 

She had thought for a while that they were just conversing, but every so often he would throw in a joke. Some of them were funny. They were interspersed in normal conversation, but not enough for her not to notice—they weren’t jokes, not the kind you said while just talking to someone. They were too deliberate. They were the kind you might try to use on a stage, wedged in between whatever given topic they were talking about.

She didn’t mind all that much, she supposed. After all, the whole conceit was that she was helping him with his set.

She’d leaned her cheek on her closed fist as she listened, her elbow on the table and her free hand toying with her drink, spinning the glass around idly by the stem. And while it wasn’t exactly engrossing it was better than having the other engineers assign her something else to do on the ship, or being below decks and having to listen to Cyrus again. Her mind drifted back to the conversation. She’d forgotten he was talking.

“So, you know, glasses…”

It was clearly leading and she looked at him, narrowing an eye in mild curiosity.

“Yes…”

“They’re a bit funny, aren’t they?”

Not at all sure where he was going with it, she tipped her head to the side.

“How?”

“Well there’s regular glasses, right? The ones for people who can’t see. And then there’s sunglasses. But that implies the existence of moon glasses, so—”

She squinted at him, her features scrunching as he went on but was for some reason hard to focus on. Maybe that was why she caught the movement in her peripheral vision, or maybe it was the other way around. Cause, effect, it didn’t matter: her eyes flitted to the side just in time to see Iris walk into the restaurant. 

Maybe it had been prey instinct.

“Shit…”

The curse was hissed between her teeth and she heard Jordan reply without taking her eyes off of the woman across the room.

“What?”

Even if she had no idea what Iris was doing there she had a more-than-usual-determined look about her and the fact that she didn’t turn around on finding that the restaurant was mostly empty wasn’t a good sign.

“Uh…”

It wasn’t helpful but it was all Billie could give before she slipped off of her seat and smiled unconvincingly, half-ducking as she started to move around the restaurant bar in a direction the other woman hopefully wouldn’t see even as she kept talking, her voice suddenly low.

“This has been really... fun. But I need to go now.”

“Sooo… does that mean a rain check?”

“Yeah. Sure.”

She wasn’t entirely paying attention, instead trying to keep her eye on the stern woman and somehow losing track of her for a few seconds. It was long enough.

“Hey. You.”

Iris was staring straight at them. Jordan raised a hand to point to himself.

“Me?”

Iris snorted.

“No, not you, idiot. Her.”

Realizing there was no point in hiding anymore, Billie grudgingly stood up straight. “I have a name, you know.”

Iris didn’t so much as take a breath. “Noted. Come with me. We need to find Judd.”

The words lit a small light of panic in her instantly. “Oh, no. What happened?”

“He decided we could get back to Earth faster by using magnets. I don’t….” The woman paused, briefly seeming lost before shrugging her shoulders. “I don’t know what that means but I’d rather we track him down before we find out.”

Billie took a long breath and released it as a just-as-long sigh, trying not to lose her patience.

“O-kay...”

… she realized she needed another breath. Iris took advantage of the pause to fill her in even as she turned toward the door, already starting to walk out.

“I tried to get Ryan but he disappeared as soon as the word ‘magnets’ came out. I’m headed to Deck Four. Do a sweep.”

There wasn’t any room for argument in her voice and she was already leaving; Billie pulled her own bracelet up and tuned it to the engineering hub.

“Guys, can you try to track down Judd?” She’d begun walking in the same direction as Iris but paused, feet briefly stopping. “... and figure out if there’s anywhere on the ship where we’d have magnets. Or where they’d do the most damage.”

Cam’s voice came back through to her.

“I’m not even going to ask, but you’ve got it.”

She was walking again when she heard Jordan’s voice behind her sounding his particular brand of mildly needy.

“See you tomorrow, then.”

“Right… yeah, will do.”

She didn’t even look back, already focused on the readings from her bracelet. Hopefully Cam would get back to her soon with something helpful… she wasn’t interested in trying to search the whole damn ship. And then she realized: Ryan was probably still out somewhere. Maybe the bar, still. Even if he’d run off from Iris she was sure _she_ could recruit him, rather than have to search the whole damn ship herself.

It seemed worth it. She dropped her arm to her side and took another calming breath, pointing her feet toward the bar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> why yes i was thinking about fermi 1 before writing this, the 'inspiration' or whatever for a random part rattling around because what billie said in the chapter actually did happen and i think it's fascinating
> 
> also I'm really sorry but I fucking love her belt and her style in general.


	4. Chapter 4

Billie found him, as expected, at the bar. Ryan had hidden himself in the back at the counter, in one of the stools closest to the wall, and was sitting in a relaxed pose as he stared straight ahead. She could see his fingers toying with the rim of the glass in front of him—bourbon, it looked like, and nearly gone at that—and she took the opportunity to sidle up and slip onto the stool beside him. He either wasn’t surprised to see her or had already drank enough that his nerves were well-sedated; the blink was slow and he turned his attention to her without any rush as well, his head tipping to the side slightly as he raised the glass in silent cheers. She pursed her lips at him in feigned disapproval.

“Where’s Judd?”  
  
“Oh, I ah…” He gestured vaguely with his drink as if he’d already forgotten. “I told Spike he wanted to learn about magnets and accidentally abandoned them on Deck Two.”

She stared at him for a moment before an amused snort escaped her. “That was actually pretty smart.”

“I _am_ capable of it, sometimes.”

She cast him a quick glance, considering making a wry comment, but opted to try to get the bartender’s attention instead as Ryan downed what was left of his drink and placed the glass on the table before speaking again, idly.

“At any rate I don’t think we need to worry about it any longer.”

The bartender reached her glass out to her but Ryan intercepted it gently, pulled it to himself instead, and took a significant sip. She probably could have stopped him but she was pretty sure he wouldn’t have given it up that easily and in truth she didn’t much mind.

“Hey!”

“Sorry.” His voice held absolutely no remorse but he lifted his free hand up to order again. “Two more, please.”

She narrowed an eye at him in a look that failed to cover her amusement and thought she caught a faint smirk from him but he was already moving on.

“What are you doing here?”

“Iris hunted me down to recruit me to find ‘the boss’, but I guess you’ve taken care of that.”

“Ah.” 

If there _had_ been a smirk on his face it was gone, and his drink was as well within a few seconds as he tossed it back and set the glass back on the bar. The new ones arrived quickly and as the both of them took their glasses in hand she eyed him sidelong and tried to ignore the low pulse of slight concern.

“How drunk are you?”

“How drunk are _you_?”

She didn’t appreciate his accusatory echo and narrowed an eye at him.

“I’m not.” 

The prompt for him to answer the question was implied and he shrugged and cleared his throat, his voice dropping low and gravelly with it, as if he were trying to keep anyone else from hearing. 

“Well, I had to spend an hour doing a meet and greet with the passengers and our favorite employer.”

“Oh, god.” Her throat strangled a laugh as she glanced over the bar and took a small sip of her drink before returning her attention to him. 

“Mm.” The sound might as well have been a groan, as if he were remembering it. “One I can handle, either the passengers or Judd. Both of them?” 

He’d lifted his glass up to his lips and paused, holding it there as a shudder ran along his shoulders before he took a smaller drink, and she watched the movement with interest. He wasn’t looking at her; she had as much opportunity as she wanted. Blinking, she shifted her eyes quickly down into her own glass, staring at the liquid inside.

“Do you need help walking back to your room?”

“I’m not quite done yet.”

“You think you might want to slow down?”

She’d lowered her chin to look at him closely from under her lashes and he returned her admonishing look with a baleful one of his own. They stared at each other for a long moment, neither willing to back down until he raised his eyebrows at her with a more agreeable expression that came suddenly enough as to make her suspicious.

“I’ll consider it under one condition.”

The words didn’t make her any more confident. He lifted his arm from the bartop, his wrist held outward to display the bracelet to her.

“Leave me a message.”

She didn’t understand, or rather it made no particular sense.

“What, just call you?”

“Yes.”

“Right now?”

He rolled his eyes and leaned back slightly. “Is it really that bloody hard? _Yes_.”

She made a point of flashing him an unappreciative look as she lifted her own wrist all the same, speaking into the bracelet.

“Captain Ryan Clark.”

A familiar sound instantly broke out—a loud, high-pitched gasping peal of laughter. _Her_ laughter. He’d been watching her intently and her eyes went wide as she sucked in a slow gasp before her mind properly gathered itself. And the _instant_ it did she reached forward with one hand to shove him lightly in the chest.

“You asshole!” 

She could barely manage the words through her laughter, something that she tried to stifle even while it matched the recording still playing in the background. He was grinning—a _wide_ grin, not one she’d seen before, and while she tried to get her own breath under control she could hear his mismatched chuckle as the recording finally stopped playing.

“When did you get that?”

“Isn’t that the standard ringtone?”

His shoulders lifted in an innocent shrug as he raised the glass in his hand for another drink without taking his eyes off of her and she stared back, narrowing her own and pursing her lips in an attempt to smother her smile and sound genuinely forceful.

“You have to change it.”

The words went either ignored or simply disregarded as he smiled at her instead with what seemed like honest sincerity.

“You have a fantastic laugh, do you know that?” 

It caught her too off guard to react, particularly as she was still trying to stifle her laughter.

“Like a hyena choking on a deflating helium balloon.”

Regaining control of her voice, she fixed him with her best warning glare but it didn’t seem to dissuade him.

“No? Hm. … a clarinet being abused by wild boars?”

“You can stop now.”

They were both smiling—hers a grudging thing that she attempted to hide and his one he was trying to subdue as well with even less luck, particularly as he went on

“As for changing it…” Finished with his drink, he set the glass down casually on the bartop. “I don’t take orders from subordinates.”

“ _Excuse_ me?”

It was _so_ strange, the way he smiled as well. She wasn’t used to it. She was used to him looking some variant of tired, relieved, or annoyed, but this was a simple, clear expression and she found herself looking at it curiously even while trying to seem intimidating.

It didn’t take long for him to lift his wrist with an overly-beleaguered sigh and flick his fingers over the bracelet once or twice before holding it up for her to see, as if it might prove he’d followed orders.

“There. And—” He turned his attention abruptly away from her and to the bartender, raising his hand to get the man’s attention. “One shot, my good man. Ah… vodka.”

She leaned into his field of view indignantly. “You said you’d slow down.”

“If you left a message.” 

He raised his eyebrows at her in challenge, his lips curling slightly upwards again, and she offered him a flat expression.

“Seriously?”

“What?”

“You’re resorting to technicalities?”

“ _I’m_ just sticking to our agreement.”

She rolled her eyes with an exaggerated, resigned sigh before lifting her glass. Within a moment the bartender had placed Ryan’s drink on the bartop and he swept it up between his fingers to hold it at the same level as her own, tilting it just slightly in invitation.

“Here’s to technicalities.”

For a second she simply stared, considering him, but soon enough she tipped her glass toward him as well for a small toast, the glasses clinking together gently.

“To technicalities.”

* * *

  
  


“Alright, big guy. Looks like it’s time we get you back to your cabin.”

She’d wrangled him from the bar without too much trouble—nothing but a little convincing, actually—and they’d wandered out into the otherwise-empty hallway, her leading and him catching up a moment later to walk beside her. There was a subtle looseness to his movements that didn’t seem quite like the way he usually held himself. She suddenly wondered how much practice he had with appearing sober; she had no idea how many drinks he’d had before coming to the bar but it was likely safe to assume quite a few… even at times when she _knew_ he was drunk he hadn’t looked it. He’d looked worse when he was sleep deprived. She narrowed an eye as she considered him but didn’t have much time to think on it before he was speaking, pulling her from the thought.

“‘Big guy’.” Ryan inhaled with a snort, nearly a laugh. “Who _are_ you.”

“The person making sure you don’t pass out in the hallway.”

“Oh, tosh. I’m not that drunk.” 

He waved a hand dismissively but returned it to his collar, re-buttoning the top two buttons of his jacket as if suddenly concerned he appeared too casual. Her lips curled into a smirk that faded far more quickly than she would have expected.

“I guess I wouldn’t be surprised if you actually _didn’t_ remember.”

“Psh. How could I forget you? You’re Billie! Billie…” 

He trailed off, squinting. She wondered for a moment if he was truly too drunk to remember her name or if to some degree it was an act. A closer look at him didn’t provide an answer. 

“Hero of the… thing.” He lifted a hand and gestured upward, raising his eyes to what she assumed was meant to mean the ship as a whole. “You know.”

She made a doubtful sound and tried to keep the amusement out of it. 

“Mm. Definitely not that drunk.”

“It would be hard to forget considering how many times it’s been. The hero-ing bits.”

She couldn’t help the small smile as he went on.

“I’d rather not think about how many times we’d be fucked without you. Coming to help. Particularly me. Royally fucked. Absolutely tits-to-arse fucked.”

“I know.”

“Toxic gas? Fucked. Wetsuit? Fucked _and_ thrown out into space covered in shit.” His voice dropped with displeasure. “That wouldn’t be my finest moment.”

She laughed. Maybe he was leaning into it. Maybe he knew how bitter she was.

Maybe he knew how much she liked it.

“Poor job on the oxygen thing though. With the… you know.” He gestured upward again. “Beeping.”

She tipped her head to the side in neutral agreement. “That’s fair.”

They reached his quarters soon enough and he waved at the sensor for a moment with growing irritation, looking down to the screen on his wrist as well and prodding at it with a muttered curse. She leaned forward as if seeing it might help her make anything out.

“You _really_ need to let me fix your door.”

“ _You_ need to let me learn how to fix my door.” 

His response had been so immediate and sullen that she was forced to bite down on a laugh.

“Mm. How’s that been going?

It finally slid open and he turned his head, raising his eyebrows at her in joyless triumph.

“It opened, didn’t it?”

“Alright, fine. Are you going in or do you plan to gloat about it?”

“This might surprise you, but I’m not very good at gloating.”

He’d begun turning mid-sentence and stepping forward when the door abruptly closed directly in front of him. There was no time for a warning and it likely wouldn’t have helped anyway; he ran into it full force, primarily with his face. 

She winced and moved forward just as he stumbled backward a step, already holding his hands upward, cupped over his nose.

“Jesus fucking—this _fucking_ door…”

It seemed like she needed more time to recover than he did. He withdrew his hands, looking to her with slightly watery eyes from the impact.

“Is it bleeding?”

It seemed like it was worth examining it seriously. “No…”

“I think it might be broken.” 

He’d reached up again, pinching delicately along the bridge of it and wincing, and she grabbed his hand to pull it away.

“Stop _touching_ it, then.” With his hands out of the way—and for the simple fact that she was sure he wouldn’t know the difference anyway if she was wrong—she could make a better assessment. “It’s not broken. Here, come with me.”

She took hold of the screen on his wrist and entered a short code. The door slid open and she pushed him through, followed him quickly after, and pressed the door shut behind her. He was too distracted to have moved even by the time she turned around. His voice was remarkably sour. 

“Hopefully it doesn’t bruise. Do noses bruise?”

“I don’t—maybe?”

She started pushing him toward the couch. His tone wasn’t pained, not really even distressed. He sounded more gently annoyed than anything else. Still, the statement was all business.

“So far as I’ve been told I’m supposed to be aiming for ‘rugged’. ‘Disfigured’ might be a bit too far.”

A single, barked laugh burst from her before she could stop it, strangling it before it could last any longer. It earned her a strange look from him and she cleared her throat to try to explain herself, briefly attempting to sound positive.

“You’re _far_ from disfigured. Just… leave it alone for a second.”

He narrowed his eyes at her in suspicion as he lowered his hand.

“... I don’t believe that’s why you were laughing.”

She’d been found out and she knew it. Worse, she couldn’t entirely keep the grin under control no matter how hard she tried. 

“I’m sorry, I just… after seeing you in some of these scenarios it’s hard to think of you as ‘rugged’.”

He attempted to wrinkle his nose at her and winced, reconsidering and opting for dryly lowered eyebrows instead.

“If you’re attempting to undermine my briefly and hard-gained self-confidence you’re doing a fantastic job.”

It didn’t seem like genuine irritation, not at her at least, and she smirked in reply. Considering his mood didn’t seem any worse for wear she figured she’d guessed right.

“’I’ll get you some ice.”

She’d expected him to sit down. Instead, as she collected some ice from the mini bar he mixed two drinks, single-handed, one still cupped over his nose as if it might help somehow. She pulled it away and dumped the bag of ice in it before shoving it back toward his face, nearly miscalculating and jamming it into his nose. Luckily he seemed aware enough to stave it off and pressed it carefully against his skin, finishing mixing the drinks only a few seconds later. Just as she’d forced the ice in his hand he forced a glass in hers. She accepted, he took his own in his free hand and—after only a second of indecision—sat down beside him on the couch. He seemed to forget about the drink in his hand, resting it on his knee. He still held the ice lightly against his nose as he took in a deep breath and released it as a sigh in the long moment of silence that followed, eventually speaking.

“Once all this is over—provided we don’t die horrific deaths, of course—maybe I should become a captain.” His eyes flicked toward her before moving away again. “I mean, a real one.”

She raised her eyebrows dubiously. “Really. How have those lessons been going?”

What she could see of his features—mostly just one of his eyes—scrunched in hesitant thought.

“... good?”

“Really.”

“I think so.”

“What’s the part of the ship engine that functions as the gimbal block?”

He stared at her, squinting hard and by all appearances trying to read her face for answers. The moment went on for a long time and she was about to break it when he sucked in a breath abruptly to beat her to the punch.

“The phalanges. Obviously.”

She laughed.

“The _gimbal block_.”

He lifted the ice away from his nose to point at her with utter sincerity, raising a vaguely offended eyebrow.

“That’s cheating.”

She snorted and rolled her eyes at him.

“That’s me literally giving you the answer.”

He pursed his lips together in displeasure as he looked back to her.

“Well it isn’t like I don’t have the time to learn.”

He took a long drink before placing the ice back over his nose and she considered him for a moment before taking a drink as well, quiet. It was interrupted by his voice.

“What _am_ I going to do once this is all over? It’s not as if Earth has much to offer anymore.”

She fixed him with a wry smirk that he didn’t see, staring across the room instead.

“Don’t you hate space?”

His answer was immediate and completely humorless.

“Yes.”

“Wow. Earth must _really_ be bad, then.”

He didn’t answer except for a grunt, maybe affirmation, she wasn’t sure. Clearly she’d missed something and a glance toward him proved it; if he looked grim sometimes this wasn’t it. This time it was real. Not sure if she could fix it, she fell into a silence and pressed her lips together, thinking, and then took a guess at the right tone of voice to use, opting for sardonic. He seemed to respond to it well, typically.

“Well, I’m not sure if the Judd Corporation is even going to exist after this. If it hasn’t already gone broke trying to save us.” She had lifted the glass for a drink and stopped mid-swallow, nearly choking at a sudden thought, completely forgetting her intention to lighten his mood. “Oh my god. Do you think they’re even trying to save us?”

“Judd’s on the ship.” He seemed far less concerned than she was; he’d leaned back with his back against the leather of the couch, seemingly relaxed, his voice both dry and idle and his eyes elsewhere, unfocused. “So… in terms of saving _him_ I’d say most likely. As for the rest of us? Probably thirty-seventy.” 

He’d answered too quickly. She gave him a suspicious look that spurred him to explain. 

“I’ve already thought about it.”

Maybe she was too stunned to be properly enraged. She stared at him closely with a mutter.

“You really _are_ good at boosting morale.”

A huff of air escaped him that could have been something like a laugh and he took a drink as she went on.

“Well, if we’re talking about staying on, provided the Judd Corporation doesn’t go under, _I_ like this ship.” 

“ _You’re_ clearly mad.”

She snorted, smiling, and as she glanced at him she saw his lips curl upward in a faint smile of his own. She moved on.

“I’m not even sure Judd would want me back, anyway.”

“No offense, but I’m not certain he’d even remember who you are. He’s probably already forgotten, it’s been more than ten minutes.”

She breathed out a sigh and took a longer, resigned drink.

“And your ‘Captain’ job?”

She suspected it was the nature of the question itself that prompted him to take a long drink of his own rather than an unconscious mimic of her actions.

“Let’s be honest, I’m a jacket with a hat.” He paused. “... actually I’m not even certain where my hat is.” Pulling the ice away again his eyes made a brisk sweep of the room. “Have you seen my hat lately?” There was a brief pause in which she didn’t bother to look before he shook the question off. “Not important. The important part is you’re the only thing holding this ship together.” He tipped his drink to her. “And the only one holding the crew together.”

She gave him a strange look with a furrowed brow.

“Where are you getting that from? That’s... not exactly my job.”

“Well it _is_ mine, and if you weren’t here I would have lost my mind twenty times over, catastrophes aside.” Looking forward, he took a drink with a sincere shake of his head, recollecting. Something subtle, something that almost looked like a shudder moved over his shoulders.

“If Judd tried to wrangle me into another job as _Captain_ —” The word dripped with sarcasm. “—I wouldn’t set foot on one of his ships without you.”

Something about it made her tongue feel heavy and her eyes slipped to the floor and then back to him, the rest of her feeling immobile. Luckily she didn’t seem to need to say anything. He took another drink and his mind moved on, already entirely elsewhere and meandering with the thought.

“Maybe an autobiography. I could sell the rights.”

It took her a second to catch up.

“Wouldn’t everything in it be made up?”

He pushed a derisive huff of air out through his nose.

“Oh, whose autobiographies aren’t mostly made up.”

“Well. Yours more than other people’s… in fact, even I probably wouldn’t be able to tell what was real or not.”

He turned his eyes toward her with a grim look, the ice back on his nose. She attempted to clarify.

“I guess anything showing technical knowledge I could rule out.”

If possible, his expression became yet more wry.

“You should _really_ become a motivational speaker.”

She ought to have known she’d chosen the wrong tone. And words, likely. She bit back a sigh.

“I told you, I’m not good at… talking. To people.”

“Maybe not to the idiots out there, but you seem to be doing fine to me.”

An amused huff escaped through her nostrils. “You don’t count.”

“What? Why?”

“Because…” 

Why not? He was easy to talk to, even if she didn’t have any solid reason why. She tried to think. 

“You’re just the alcoholic captain.” 

… oh. Oh no. That sounded bad. Worse than the other things, even. She tried to fix it, speaking hurriedly.

“... you know, like the joke. With… the other engineers…”

The room was absolute silence. She couldn’t tell if he was trying to come up with a response or just thinking about… probably something she’d rather not think about either. Not-soon-enough he narrowed one eye just-slightly, barely enough to even catch. 

“You know you’re starting to turn me around on the ‘bad at talking to people’ thing.”

Her voice burst out in a too-loud and distinctly nervous laugh that he notably did not return. She couldn’t come up with anything to say, and so she took a long drink before holding the glass in her lap like a lifeline.

He seemed to have forgotten his. She read it as a bad sign and after the silence dragged on for a few seconds longer she cleared her throat to talk despite desperately not wanting to.

“For the record you’re a good jacket and hat.”

He blinked as if he’d been in a stupor and turned toward her with a brow furrowed in confusion.

“What?”

She tried again, trying to make herself sound more upbeat and cringing at the result.

“You could be a ‘Captain’ again. You know. _Your_ kind of Captain. On some other ship, or another Judd cruise. Everyone thinks you’re a hero. And you can talk to people. So… that’s something I can’t do.”

The confusion on his features disappeared and his expression returned to a grim sort of understanding.

“This entire experience has been a fucking nightmare.” 

The message was clear. He wouldn’t exactly be excited about doing it again. For some reason it made her feel vaguely irritated, herself. There was an odd sting to it and the displeasure might have made its way to her voice.

“You got yourself into this mess.”

“ _Joe_ got me into this mess.”

A pause followed as both of them looked at each other, briefly sober. Both looked away at the same time. And while Joe wasn’t something she wanted to think about she knew it wasn’t why her mind went back to the prior topic.

“... I didn’t mean it, you know.”

“... what?”

“I mean the whole… I mean, ‘just the alcoholic captain’. That. I didn’t mean it.”

“It’s not inaccurate.” The muttered reply didn’t sound like anything. Not angry, not irritated, not upset. Not amused.

“Maybe only the word ‘just’, then.”

He clearly didn’t understand and there was a vague question to his voice.

“Apology accepted.” 

He was still holding the ice to his nose and after another brief silence she took it as an excuse. 

“Here.”

He looked at her curiously as she set her drink on the table in front of them and shifted her weight on the couch to face him and take the drink out of his hand as well. She ignored the brisk, almost-invisible flash of offense that moved over his features and the way his fingers reached a few inches after the glass as she took it away, and she brought her knees up to the couch, resting her weight on them to make it easier to face him at the necessary height.

“You look ridiculous.”

A breath of air escaped him in a huff, something that she thought would have been a laugh if it weren’t for his nose or his dampened mood and she saw his lips quirk upward slightly, unexpectedly.

“Something I’m getting used to, in addition to being shoved into various suits and put in scenarios I’m dangerously unqualified for.”

She smirked and reached forward unthinkingly to grip the back of his hand and, finding the slight gap between the bag of ice and his palm with her fingertips, pulled it away from his face. He winced lightly in what she guessed was just a reflex to it being exposed and she stopped, in some part due to the wince and in some part because her mind suddenly went blank.

His hand was warm, even with the bag of ice in it. She’d forgotten she was holding it. And when her eyes flitted over his face she noted the mild look of confused apprehension on it—the slightly furrowed brow, one eye just barely narrowed as he stared back at her, and the faintest downward curve of his lips—with only a vague bemusement of her own.

His voice was flat with an edge of growing concern in it.

“... what.” 

When she didn’t respond his lips pressed into a thin, worried line.

“Is it bleeding? Please tell me it’s not bruised.”

It wasn’t a compulsion, really. It didn’t feel like something she _had_ to do, and it definitely wasn’t something she’d _planned_ to do—but the thought moved unexpectedly through her, so she saw no reason to fight it.

She wasn’t exactly a subtle person, and she wasn’t much for half-measures, and so without even considering answering her eyes stayed focused on his lips as she leaned in toward him deliberately and pressed them firmly against her own. 

A small, low noise of what seemed like surprise rode out on the deep release of his breath and with the way his chest lowered and his lips parted it felt like it was abrupt, unexpected relief. It was strange, the sound of it. As if he’d been waiting without expecting. 

She hadn’t meant to linger in it once she’d made the decision to kiss him, just to see if the action felt right. But their tongues brushed over one-another and he tasted like alcohol—the deep, rich aftertones of bourbon, and she felt his right hand release the bag of ice it had been holding, abandoning it to gravity. She curled her freed hands gently along the back of his neck, her thumbs just behind his ears as if holding him in place when there was clearly no need to and shifted her weight, sliding one leg over his lap to straddle his body. It spurred a deeper breath from him that she returned and she suddenly felt short of air and broke away from him, their lips still close and both of their breathing distinctly heavy. 

She opened her eyes only enough to catch a glimpse of his face; he had opened his own and was looking back at her, slightly dazed but most definitely heated all the same, and it set a flutter alight in her chest that she wasn’t sure she liked. She let him go and brought her hands to his chest instead. It might have been a mistake: her palms picked up his quickening heartbeat. It was a sudden and heady thing to notice, made even moreso by the abrupt sensation of one of his hands coiling into her hair at the nape of her neck and the other curled around her hip, his thumb pressing firmly against the bone as he pulled her toward himself. The light feeling in her chest became a jolt of electricity instead—brief but fierce—and while their lips joined together again her fingers caught the zipper of her jumpsuit and pulled it down to her belt before she abandoned it for later, instead wrangling one arm out of its sleeve and then the other, stubbornly refusing to abandon his tongue and—once both hands were free again—she clutched hard to his jacket.

Maybe it was the way his pull on her had moved her weight or maybe it was simple inevitability; a balance had been tipped and their bodies began a slow, unintended sideward slide against the leather cushions. She doubted she could have stopped it even if she wanted to; her fingers were still wrapped tightly into the starched fabric at his chest as their weight re-settled itself.

She was kneeling on top of him, not quite able to keep the closeness they’d had before, and she broke for a frustrated breath that must have given him an opening; his lips were suddenly at her neck instead and his beard tickled her skin and through it she managed to notice the vaguely familiar feeling of a warm palm against her body, this time wandering upward along her side, his fingertips at her ribs and the rest of his hand following slowly but inexorably after. It made her breath catch in her chest and the sound forced a reply from him in the form of a simple, breathy curse, forgotten before it was finished.

“Fuck—”

She didn’t let it linger. She hunted his lips out instead. This time she felt the low groan in his chest as she let go of the fabric of his jacket in favor of the fastenings, letting her fingers do the blind work of unbuttoning the garment down his chest, dextrous despite her distraction with his lips.

She couldn’t be sure if she didn’t notice or if she just chose to ignore the first one.

She couldn’t ignore the second.

The pleasant, ringing tone coming from the console on the table didn’t so much break into her consciousness as it crept insistently instead, cracking through the pleasant fog and interrupting the moment to make it clear just how much harder her heart was beating. Her fingers were still on his buttons and his hand was still at her side, his palm warm just below the curve of her breast, and within a moment they were both looking at the console in absolute silence as if they’d each forgotten what it even was. She fully remembered where they were soon enough, and the circumstances. His eyes stayed fixed on the screen and she stared at it as well, taking in the two smiling faces—a man and a woman—with a mind that felt like it was lagging behind it all.

He must have realized it needed an explanation.

“That’s...”

Neither of them moved or changed their focus, even in the pause. 

“Those are my partners.”

It rang again in the otherwise complete silence and she heard him clear his throat carefully.

“... well. Ex-partners.”

Somehow her stare at the picture seemed more active than before; it was suddenly an excuse to not look at him. It took another ring to startle her back to reality. She didn’t make much use of it. 

“... oh.” Her teeth found her lower lip again and bit hard on it for a moment—a surrogate pinch meant to wake herself up. “I didn’t know, ah…” 

Somehow she knew he was watching her. The bite to her lip helped; she took a breath and stood up quickly, suddenly feeling very awkward. How she hadn’t felt awkward before she wasn’t sure. 

“I can just…”

“Wait, wait wait…”

Another ring hit the room and it made her wince; it reminded her of the goddamn beep.

Ryan’s nose wrinkled, his eyes squeezing shut as if he already had a hangover, and as if to emphasize the point he brought his fingers to the bridge of his nose, pinching it briefly. Her palms felt sweaty. She wiped them on her jumpsuit, remembered that it was partially unzipped, and quickly threw her arms back in the sleeves with her lips curled in a desperate rigor-mortis smile as she started backing away.

“Hang on. Billie—”

“I have to…” She tossed a thumb over her shoulder, gesturing toward the exit. “There’s probably something wrong somewhere. That I have to. Take care of.”

Still backing up, she nearly ran into the door and stumbled slightly. It was at least enough to get her attention elsewhere. Anywhere but him, at any rate. She clung to the opportunity and pushed at the door but it didn’t move. She raised her head, looking with irritated desperation at the sensor as if by glaring at it she might be able to make it work. Nothing happened.

… she was trapped. Worse, he’d managed to stand and was following after her, and not only that, he was talking. She’d somehow blocked it out but she couldn’t ignore it once she’d noticed it—she glanced over her shoulder at him cautiously as she gave the door a small, hopefully-subtle kick. 

“I just didn’t think… I mean, an attractive…” He trailed off in a pause, squinting into the mid-distance, thinking. She couldn’t tell how much was because of the alcohol. He snapped out of it with eyebrows raising in tall arches in a look of mildly baffled realization, head tipping to the side as if he were still mulling it over, his eyes still pointed blankly over her head and his voice lowering slightly to something closer to a murmur. “… frankly brilliant young woman…”

She wondered if he’d forgotten she was there. She’d taken in a breath and forgotten to let it out and despite herself she’d turned back toward him—not fully abandoning the exit, but offering the chance. Until he dipped his head and narrowed an eye in an afterthought, pressing his lips into a questionable line with the bewildered words.

“Although I don’t understand the _belt_.”

He finally dropped his eyes back to her. Or rather, her hips where the large buckle strapped across them. The heavy canvas, the buckle marked ‘pull’. 

“What is that, is it some kind of safety thing? An aesthetic choice? I don’t—”

She cut him off.

“Okay. This has been… something.”

She turned back toward the door and bounced on her toes to offer it some motion. Miraculously, it opened. She didn’t bother trying to look like she wasn’t trying to get away as fast as possible without literally running, walking briskly instead.

“Wait-wait-wait-wait-wait—”

She could hear the door start to close and silently thanked whatever gremlins decided to haunt it again, even as she heard the exasperated mutter behind her.

“Fucking—” 

He cut himself off, by the sound of it engaged in a brief struggle before his voice picked up again from farther behind.

“Just… forget the belt thing.” His tone pitched upward slightly in annoyance that she could hear even in the mutter. “Why am I still talking about the belt thing? The point is…” His voice tripped and hesitated and she could practically see his expression in her mind—his features scrunched in thought, his eyes screwed upward as if it might help him find the answer. “I don’t know what the point is. Can you just slow down?”

She turned on her heel to walk backwards in a way that suggested she was giving him proper attention while also keeping her distance. His hair was still mussed from the couch and her voice was apologetic… sort of. Apologetic as if nothing untoward had happened at all. As if she were just excusing herself from a late night.

“I should go.” She tried a shrug. It felt horrible. “I need to, um…” Pressing her lips into a thin line as she tried to think, she shook her head at herself as she gave up. “Maintenance.”

It was the best she was going to do, and it had to be her escape hatch. She turned on her heel once again and resumed the brisk walk away down the hallway, relieved to find that nothing—not a voice, not footsteps, not any sign of Ryan at all—followed her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> when I first started writing this there were a lot of lines/concepts that I had in here before the show even addressed them/had lines about them and it made me inordinately pleased lol  
> one was the concept of fake autobiographies, another was Billie basically being like "this has been... a thing that happened", the idea of Ryan being contractually obligated to have a certain look, I don't know, there were a few others, and I felt valid.  
> that is all.


	5. Chapter 5

Somehow, for about a week she managed to avoid him. It shouldn’t have been surprising considering the size of the ship, but with her being the only visible engineer and Ryan being the ship’s captain it seemed like something worth taking a deep, relieved breath about anyway.

It was strange in retrospect, though. How often they did run into each other, before. And yeah, some of it was obviously the ship’s repeated technical issues and the need to fix them, but she realized that ever since that first gravity catastrophe it had been a decent amount of her free time, too.

In combination with the ship behaving it actually left her with what felt like too _ much _ free time, and she found herself spending more of it below decks with the other engineers. She could only stand so much time around Cyrus, though, and had to frequently come up for air.

She caught sight of Ryan a few times when he was talking to passengers or being hounded by Iris but he thankfully didn’t seem to notice her, and each time she took the opportunity to duck away as quickly as she could without drawing attention to herself.

She saw him once with Karen; she’d had to either go past his quarters or go the long way around, and she figured if she was careful she wouldn’t be seen, but while turning the corner outside his door she came to an abrupt stop, managing to catch herself before entering either of their fields of view. Her feet paused long enough for her to look at them a bit more closely rather than immediately retreating and she saw the amicable smile that passed between them and the nod of Ryan’s head, as if they were finishing up some business. It tugged downward at one corner of her lips, a furrow forming on her brow, and before she could settle into the realization that it bothered her she turned and walked away.

And then, of course, there was Jordan. If nothing else she didn’t feel vaguely bad about blowing him off anymore—she didn’t need to—but after showing up at the end of one of his sets one night she realized that she might run into Ryan there and quickly messaged him to meet her somewhere else, somewhere in the lower decks where Ryan most likely wouldn’t go. If he even knew about it. It was probably the reason that Jordan started to seem more casual in the way he talked. Another thing she couldn’t figure out if she liked.

Below decks in the engineering hub was where she tended to find the most peace, or at least as much as she was going to get. At least she could focus on work there. And somehow Cyrus hadn’t been saying anything questionable. Maybe he knew. That was a worse thought, actually, and she brushed it aside forcefully when it first wandered into her mind, but she had to struggle to keep it away, something that was even harder when finally, for the first time since she’d escorted him to his cabin, Ryan came up in conversation. And it was of course Cyrus who brought him up. Maybe it was a good thing that she was in the process of leaving—Cam had let her know about an issue with the oxygen readings on deck four.

“Captain Anxiety was here looking for you. I think he had a question about the ship, probably.”

Billie turned her attention to him and looked at him expectantly. When he didn’t offer anything more she stared at him more closely with growing impatience.

“... well, did you ask him what it was?”

“No.” 

He’d said it with a maddening calm. Maybe it was better that he’d turned his attention away, having chosen to click around on his computer, his eyes on the screen. Otherwise he might have sniffed something out.

She released an irritated huff of air and grabbed her toolbox and tablet.

“Thanks, Cyrus. Good to know I can always count on you to be useless.”

He finally looked back to her with his typical smarmy expression.

“But you can always count on me.”

She rolled her eyes as hard as she could and made her way to the door, bumping it open with her hip a little harder than was necessary and making her escape.

* * *

  
  
  


She didn’t plan on trying to find Ryan. In fact, that was the opposite of the plan.

She likely should have been scanning on her tablet as she went, prepping everything so that the job would go faster once she got to deck four, but paranoia was keeping her eyes on the hallway instead. Maybe it was the idea that Ryan had actually gone looking for her. Maybe it was just lingering concern that Cyrus might figure something out. Not that she thought he was smart, just that he was a slimy little bastard, and somehow that seemed like it might give him an advantage.

She’d largely managed to avoid being out in the open since the incident, and true, she could have asked someone else to do the job and stayed down in engineering, but she did still have a job to do and the more she avoided the more public spaces the more questions she knew she would get. So she’d taken the oxygen job. It seemed like it would be a quick one… there had been some strange numbers, probably nothing. All she had to do was take some readings from a maintenance panel for the ventilation system. As soon as she found where she needed to be she gathered what she needed, quickly and efficiently popping open the panel and checking a few of the lights, pulling out her tablet and connecting it wirelessly to gather the readings she needed. They  _ were _ off. Not by much, but by enough that it should be looked into.

She likely should have simply taken the readings and walked away, returned below decks to analyze them there, but her eyes narrowed gently as she considered them, opening up the manual overrides on her tablet and making a small, experimental adjustment, watching the numbers change as she thought through what the underlying issue might be.

It must have been too much of a distraction.

She heard him before she saw him. The somewhat grizzled American accent. The sound of multiple pairs of footsteps. She lifted her head and immediately looked for somewhere to duck away to but the hallway was blank and she realized suddenly that it didn’t matter; she couldn’t simply walk away without making sure the numbers were completely stabilized—either reverted back to the way they had been when she’d arrived or fixed, one way or another. Her fingers gripped the tablet more tightly as she stared at it and tried not to move, as if it might make her invisible. Unfortunately it didn’t work.

“There she is! Billie McEvoy, ship engineer.” 

He was clearly still in Captain mode, that vaguely positive voice, a confident and genial tone that neared cheery at times... depending on just how dire the situation was and who he was speaking to. She wondered how he did it. The ship being stable for more than a few days might have made it easier; even without being active topside as much it was clear to see that the mood of the passengers even seemed to be slightly for the better.

She had frozen completely, not looking either at him or the passengers he’d been speaking to, keeping her eyes instead locked down on the screen in front of her. It felt like her hair was standing on end. She hadn’t even considered the idea that she was supposed to introduce herself or give them some kind of greeting, but after a brief pause his voice came again, sounding both somewhat awkward and apologetic even through the confidence.

“She’s… very focused on her work. One of our best employees.”

Feeling like she was making it worse by being completely catatonic, a terse uncertain laugh burst from her, trying to make itself sound agreeable. It came with a smile—more gritted teeth than anything else—and she was well aware that both the expression and the sound completely failed to convey anything she’d meant them to. She gave up on each and looked back to the tablet, wide-eyed and trying to focus as much as she could on the numbers flickering on the surface as she heard him again.

“If you folks don’t mind we’ve got some technical business we need to discuss.”

It was an obvious dismissal, and despite her prayers the passengers left agreeably and without argument, not even tossing her the mercy of asking Ryan a follow-up question or even saying goodbye.

She still hadn’t moved.

He’d already been near her but he moved up beside her and tipped his head to the side as if he were looking at the results as well. She kept her head down.

“Readings look good. Great work, Engineer.” He’d spoken overly-loudly in what seemed to her to be a clear—and bad—attempt to brush off any suspicion a bystander might have before he cast a glance around them and lowered his voice, the English returning to it.

“Billie, could we—” 

Apparently he hadn’t looked quite busy enough. He cut himself off, switching accents to reply as she heard another passenger’s hello.

“Hi! Hello. How are you.”

Glancing sidelong, she caught the way his eyes followed them before the smile he’d put on abruptly disappeared and he lowered his voice to a quieter mutter, leaning in toward her slightly to be sure she could hear.

“Could we talk?”

She realized she’d have to say something eventually, regardless of her nerves. She lowered her voice to his volume but her tone was terse—she could hear it.

“I can’t exactly leave.”

It must have triggered something. His voice turned terse as well.

“So we’re just going to ignore each other for the next, what, three years?” The mutter turned lower, likely just meant for himself. “If that’s even the right fucking number, I can’t even remember at this point.”

Still not looking at him, she continued tapping on her tablet. She’d already reset the monitoring system. Everything was finished, save for double-checking it later below-decks. He didn’t need to know.

“Well I, for one, am going to have plenty of work to keep me busy and keep everyone on this ship alive. And I’m sure you have lots to do, too.”

She felt something oddly like anger, but it seemed unfocused and she wasn’t sure where it belonged. She did know one thing: he didn’t deserve the tone. Even so, she didn’t apologize for it. Her fingers stopped tapping.

A silence sank over them and she knew he was looking at her. Possibly offended, or worse, hurt. She had no way of knowing without looking at him and she certainly wasn’t going to check, and it seemed unnecessary when she heard his voice again… not offended, surprisingly. Neutral.

“Look… you’re the only one on this bloody ship who—” 

He stopped abruptly once again and she didn’t even have to guess: more passengers walked by and she glanced sidelong to his face, taking a brisk look at the far more strained, forced grin as he switched accents again. 

“Yes, hello. Hi.”

They moved past and she looked back down as he spoke between his teeth, briefly seeming to forget the conversation. 

“I am going to lose my fucking mind.”

He took a breath and looked to either side of himself, apparently regathering his thoughts. His eyes stayed elsewhere as he spoke.

“I was saying you’re the only one on this ship I can stand talking to.”

It felt like a nervous reflex; a finger tapped mindlessly, accidentally hitting the button meant to alter the nitrogen content of the air, and she quickly turned it off. If he noticed he didn’t draw any attention to it. He was keeping lookout still; that inspired a bit of confidence. It let her look at him more closely, briefly searching his expression before glancing over the rest of him. Despite his earlier lean—the excuse to look at her tablet, or rather, the real excuse to speak more quietly—he’d stood slightly more straight with his hands folded behind his back, but was still close enough to keep his voice low.

“We don’t even have to—I mean, if you want to forget it, just say the word. Or don’t. Or… I don’t know. Blink twice.”

Just like he’d said at the bar. She hadn’t forgotten.

She finally ignored the tablet, curling her fingers around it with a sigh as she tried to gather something to say before an outside voice jutted in and scattered her thoughts.

“Captain—”

Even  _ she  _ cringed. She could hear him take in the deep suck of air and release it as a tense laugh that she could tell was barely reigning it in.

“Yep! Yep. What do you need? I’m here for you. All day every day.”

“Could you get someone to drain the pool on deck three? My wife dropped her ring—”

It snapped him out of their admittedly one-sided conversation for a moment, at least.

“Drain the pool?”

“Yes, she—”

“For a ring?”

“It’s our wedding ring, so—”

“Did you look for it?”

There was a pause. She tried to stay perfectly still. The other man, despite sounding somewhat uncertain, pushed ahead anyway.

“Well it’s under water…”

Ryan took a deep breath and released it slowly. She could hear the customer-service smile in his voice.

“Well that’s probably not something we need to worry about conserving, water. Sure. I’ll get Matt on it right away.”

Not seeming to know what to do for a moment, the passenger hesitated, shifted his weight on his feet, and then mumbled an uncertain ‘thank you’ before heading off.

She didn’t give Ryan too much time to collect himself, but as soon as the other man was gone she tried to get his attention with a quiet murmur.

“Okay.”

“What?”

Apparently she had been  _ too  _ quiet. She tried again.

“O _ kay _ .”

“Okay?”

“ _ Yes _ , okay.”

“Meaning…”

“Okay!” The word burst out of her a bit too loud and she immediately quieted her voice back down. “As in, just… fine. Let’s just forget it, okay?”

A beat of silence passed before he responded.

“Okay. So everything goes back to normal?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.”

“Can we stop saying ‘okay’?”

“Okay.” 

For the first time they glanced at each other. She raised an eyebrow. He lowered his and tried again. 

“... sure.”

* * *

  
  
  


It wasn’t okay. 

Things didn’t go back to normal, or even what tenuous definition ‘normal’ had on Avenue 5. Sure, the ship started miraculously behaving itself, and she ought to be happy enough with that, but things with Ryan felt off-balance and uncomfortable and it didn’t help that she looked at him sometimes, either finding him watching her or being caught staring at him. They always looked away as quickly as possible.

It was better that they’d come to an agreement, at least. Judd had demanded morning briefings on the state of the ship and the passengers but—as she should have expected—ended up mostly talking about his own pointless ideas. They all suspected that had been the point all along and she could tell by the curve of Ryan’s shoulders and his occasional slow blink that he didn’t bother to give it much attention until Judd said something potentially dangerous, at which point he always narrowed an eye, no doubt mentally taking note, or possibly just adding it to the list of annoyances to keep in the back of his mind.

And then, after Judd was sufficiently distracted, there were the  _ actual  _ meetings. The ones with only Ryan, held on the bridge and surrounded by the ‘crew’, but she wasn’t sure how much she considered them to be fully-developed people in the first place. The first day was nearly unbearable; she listed off the readings the ship was giving for the basic systems with as much patience as she could muster. He never had questions and she ran off as quickly as she could afterwards. But within a couple of days her nerves had settled enough that she felt she could at least stay until she was actually officially dismissed and she found herself lingering once or twice, not sure why and feeling incredibly awkward once she realized it, excusing herself shortly after.

She realized after grudgingly thinking about it that it wasn’t just unease, or confusion, or any other lingering thing from the night she’d kissed him. He wasn’t talking to her. Not  _ not _ talking to her, but not  _ talking  _ to her. For a day she thought she might be imagining it—after all, she’d been the one making a point of keeping things as brief as possible. But as her unease reached a balance and she felt more capable of interacting like a human it was all too apparent that he wasn’t returning the favor. It irked her in a way she probably didn’t deserve but it irked her all the same. She even tested it by asking him leading questions but never got more than a few words in return. And while she might not want his full attention it bothered her anyway. Luckily if she was anything it was stubborn. She decided after one of the morning meetings that she’d force a conversation if she had to, and she decided it would be after briefing him on the bridge. It was, after all, the perfect opportunity. Or maybe ‘excuse’ was a better word.

“Why are we doing this again?”

Ryan looked up to her from the tablet she’d been holding up and the readings that she was sure were meaningless to him.

“Because I like to know what’s going on with my ship.”

“ _ Your _ ship?”

“... technically.” He paused and narrowed his eyes, clearly thinking. “Or technically not?” He reached up to scratch his beard for a moment before brushing the idea aside. “Theoretically.” 

Her nostrils flared in a gentle snort.

“Does any of this even mean anything to you?”

He blinked and looked at her with a furrowed brow. It was like the first time he was seeing her, and it was obviously with surprise. Not the good kind. She felt a flash of immediate regret and lowered her eyes to the tablet, clearing her throat, amazed in herself; she’d succeeded in getting him to talk and immediately shut him down. Pressing her lips together in thought, she tried again.

“Anyway… if we want to keep Judd  _ out  _ of the know we should probably keep training the crew. As much as we can, anyway. It can’t possibly be that hard to teach them the basics.” 

Not fully believing her own words, she cast a wry look over the assembled actors and models. She’d intended to say more but sank into a hopeless fog. The next thing she realized was his hand grasping the tablet and pulling it gently from her hand with obvious and intentional care not to touch her. She watched the motion with a faint frown that she lowered her head to hide. It was a reminder of more than just the night she’d kissed him. It was an unhelpful reminder of the distance she’d already recognized in the sparse way he’d started to speak to her. He interrupted it.

“Maybe I should train them. You know, to save you from losing your mind.” He’d curled both hands around the tablet and was holding it more firmly, glancing from the text up to her doubtfully. “And to save them from you murdering them.”

It was funny. The words were similar to what they might have been before but there was something subtly different about his tone, or maybe just something missing. She shook it off and looked up at him with raised eyebrows.

“Right. Because that went so well last time.”

He pressed a breath of air through his teeth as a dismissive ‘tsk’ and looked away with obvious irritation.

“Oh, that was just…” Not able to come up with anything immediately, his features scrunched together in thought. “... a lesson in acting for the crew.”

“I think that was just you having a mental breakdown.”

He fixed her with a glare but didn’t argue the point, instead looking back down to the screen and prodding at it experimentally.

“I’ll run through some basic things with them and then you quiz them after. Besides, it’ll give me a chance to build a foundation.”

“... a foundation?”

“Well I said I wanted to learn this stuff, didn’t I?”

She fixed him with a curious look but he was already squinting at the tablet and she let herself take him in. He seemed focused and intent and she noticed herself leaning against the Captain’s console to watch, facing him as she glanced from the screen back up to him, watching his eyes flick over the words and taking in the small movements of his face and body—an eye narrowed in question, lips pressed together in concentration, and the slow rise and fall of his chest with each breath.

She must have zoned out entirely while staring at him and what caught her off guard was the way his breath stopped, hesitated, and came back less evenly a second later; her eyes widened as they flicked up to his own to find them settled intently on her face, somewhat unfocused before his gaze came to rest fully on her lips, and her own breath stuttered as her lips parted and her mind reaching for something to say and she was glad it sounded firm.

“Just the basics, though. Until I get to double check.”

“Mm.”

He already sounded distracted. Inching closer to glance at what he was looking at she saw him scrolling slowly up a list of names of the crew, the numbers on the right indicating they were going up by clearance level and he paused as he reached the highest numbers to squint at the one beside his name. Ninety-eight. She watched him blink, puzzled.

“Why isn’t my clearance level one-hundred? Or at _ least _ ninety-nine.”

She blurted out the reply like she’d had it ready the second he saw himself on the list.

“Judd wanted to have the highest number.”

“Oh, bugger me. So the man really  _ could _ kill us all.”

She carefully cleared her throat and moved closer, keeping her voice low. “Actually, your clearance level is one-hundred and one.” 

Reaching just as carefully as he had when he took the tablet from her, she pressed a finger against his name on the screen. It brought up basic details of his position and, on the right of the screen, the number marked ‘clearance level’ confirmed it. Message delivered, she pressed her lips together and kept her gaze downward and away from him until the silence suggested she ought to at least offer him something more. Uncertain if she wanted to, she looked up at him anyway.

“Joe set it, both yours and his. I don’t think he trusted Judd to be…” She paused, her eyes screwing upward as she looked for a word. There were too many options. “... sane. But he still has to look like he’s at the top.”

When she focused her gaze back on him he was smiling—a small thing and one that looked somewhat puzzled, but a smile all the same. Her own lips quirked upward into a smile of her own and they simply looked at each other for a moment more: a moment too long, maybe. The both of them seemed to notice at the same time and she lowered her eyes, realized she was still standing close to him, and took a subtle step back to create some distance with another clearing of her throat as she reached up to scratch gently at her scalp. Her fingers itched for something to hold onto but he had her tablet and she had nothing to say. She wasn’t sure if he was looking at her but she tried to ignore the thought, opting instead to search for her best next course of action. If he really  _ was _ going to train them she wanted to be elsewhere, and after a sidelong glance toward him that only caught sight of his hands and made it no farther more words rolled off of her tongue without warning.

“I have to go do things.”

It was blunt and she realized two things at once: one, it had sounded like nothing but an excuse to leave and two, despite how abrupt it had been, it was suddenly and undeniably true. A little dazed at the fact, herself, she turned without even blinking and hurried out, moving briskly as she looked down at the bracelet on her wrist. She had someone to find.

* * *

_ Meet me at the bar _ .

Jordan’s set wouldn’t be until hours later, but the ship’s day and night cycle suggested most people would be treating it as early morning, and she’d never tried to seek him out any other time than after noon. She hoped the text would work. Not only work, but work fast. Immediately, if she had any luck.

She settled down at one of the empty tables—most of the tables were empty—and waited, looking at her bracelet every few seconds in case she might somehow miss a notification that she’d received a reply. In the end she didn’t need to consider the bracelet at all.

She missed Jordan appearing in the doorway and only noticed him when he suddenly appeared in front of her, sliding into a seat and looking a little puzzled as he looked out over the largely-empty bar.

“So… a bit early, isn’t it?”

Caught off guard, she only had time to stare at him before he seemed to notice and carried on.

“Should I be—”

He was mid-sentence when she kissed him. She muffled the sound of his voice against her lips, leaving him to emit a surprised ‘mph’ that was drowned out a moment later when she kissed him more insistently and—finally getting the message—he kissed back.

It wasn’t  _ bad _ . There was just nothing  _ there _ . It should have been distracting, made it hard to think—it should have woken up the rest of her body, made it move without her knowing in some way. Like it had been with Ryan. It was the answer she’d been trying to figure out, but it didn’t mean she had to like getting it.

She pulled back without any warning.

“Yeah, this isn’t going to work.” 

“What?”

She lifted her shoulders in a helpless shrug. “Sorry.”

She meant the apology. Sort of. It wasn’t either of their faults, though, so she saw no reason to feel guilty about it. Jordan, for his part, seemed completely lost. It probably didn’t help that she’d kissed him out of nowhere in the first place.

“That’s it?”

Eyebrows lowering, she glanced off to the side in thought. The brief search of her mind provided nothing and her eyes flicked back to him as she was already in the process of standing up. 

“Yep.”

“Can’t we—”

“I have to go.”

There was a long moment of silence as she neared the door but she didn’t quite make it before he called out after her.

“Let’s do this again sometime?”

He barely got the words out before she answered.

“No thanks.”

Making her way through the door, she lifted her arm to run her fingers over the bracelet, navigating to the contact list until she found what she needed.

_ Jordan Hatwal _

With a flick of her fingers the name disappeared from the screen entirely and she let her breath out as a sigh, already feeling lighter. One less thing to worry about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pardon the short and kind of light chapter, the next one will be more substantial (not necessarily in length but definitely in content)


	6. Chapter 6

The crew seemed to be learning. Sort of. More than she’d expected, at least.

Billie found herself on the bridge for their first ‘quiz’ feeling awkward and sullen. Ryan had handed them off to her and then left her behind. She’d thought, for some reason, that they’d be doing the whole quiz thing together. It made more sense: they could both see how they were progressing and what needed to be focused on. But it seemed like the second she’d entered the room he’d looked up, then glanced down to the tablet she’d gotten for him before holding it out for her to take. Not thinking, she’d grabbed it by reflex to see what he’d been working on with them. And by the time she looked back up he was gone.

Not only did she have to contest with that, she also had to look the group of actors and models in the eye and try to be patient with them, somehow, when they failed to understand the most basic of concepts, or even just remember something as simple as numbers.

She didn’t focus that well because of it. Or if she were being a little more honest with herself, the fact that Ryan didn’t seem interested in even interacting with her—to say the least—was the bigger issue. She’d thought that they were making progress. Granted the previous day wasn’t _exactly_ mind-blowing in terms of finding something like their usual balance, but it was at least way better than this. He’d at least had a conversation with her, even if it was brief.

She frowned, shaking herself off. Nadia was asking a question in that delicate French accent.

“Billie? What is the flitter emitter?” 

Taking a deep breath and closing her eyes, she released it slowly between pursed lips in hopes it would both calm and focus her. Yeah. Patience most definitely wasn’t her strong suit.

* * *

Between having to quiz the crew and working practically non-stop harvesting sensor data Billie felt like everything had all started bleeding together; a nap had seemed like the best solution.

She hadn’t planned to sleep long. She woke up to the sound of an alarm—not the kind her bracelet usually made. The entire ship was blaring a loud alert.

It took her a second to orient herself; she shot up in her bunk almost faster than her balance could compensate for and after swaying forward for a moment she got to her feet, blinking until she felt alert, and stumbled out into the engineering hub.

The universal channel of the comms bled out into the room from multiple headsets, split between the sound of minor static and the occasional sound of Ryan’s voice, indecipherable, and a sweep of the room proved that no one else had even put on their mics. She already had enough incentive to raise her voice.

“Are _any_ of you interested in answering the comms?”

She grabbed a free headset and Ryan’s voice coming through the speaker almost cut her off, sounding distinctively terse.

“Correct me if I’m wrong but I feel like the word ‘impact’ implies _someone_ who knows _anything at all_ about this ship might want to be a _little bit_ concerned…”

She ripped the headset off and stared at the rest of the team.

“ _Impact?_ ”

Ella seemed to be the first one getting her station together. She leaned in toward her monitor as she shoved her headset on, leaving it askew.

“Um… a comet…”

There was a pause as they all stared at each other before everything went suddenly back into motion and Billie kicked into gear.

“I’m coming, Ryan.” 

She cursed under her breath as she threw on the sleeves of her jumpsuit and darted toward the door, slipping out into the hallway and immediately heading to the stairs.

“Shit-shit-shit-shit-shit…” 

Between curses she tried to pull together her thoughts and realized she’d left her datapad behind. It was too late for it. Unfortunately she’d have to rely on the others.

“Could _one_ of you check the goddamn sensors?”

Cam was the first to reply, sounding awake and finally somewhat concerned.

“It’s showing up as a miss…”

She’d almost forgotten Ryan was on the channel until his voice broke in.

“Then why the fuck is the alarm going off?”

“I don’t know.”

His voice came through in rapid, worried mutters before he was audible again. “Can someone turn it off? We have a ship full of shrieking monkeys ready to throw themselves out of the airlocks, here…”

“On it.” 

For once she didn’t _completely_ hate Cyrus.

The alarm, at least, stopped. Without it she heard Ryan’s uneasy sigh and could make out the breathy mutter.

“It’s going to be fine…”

It was barely a second later that his voice came out through the speaker system in that American accent, calm save for the slightest edge that she was sure most of the passengers wouldn’t be able to catch.

“No need to worry, folks. Just a test of the emergency alert system.” There was a pause long enough for a breath before he went on. “I’d say it’s functioning pretty well, wouldn’t you?”

It was somewhat impressive how he managed to act relaxed. Or maybe he was just getting better at it.

Billie burst out into the hallway and turned, nearly running into a passenger as she sprinted toward the bridge. She had no idea what she would even do once she was there. Her mind had just said to run. Maybe she just wanted to see her own last seconds.

Ryan came in sight as soon as she turned the corner onto the bridge, just in time for her to see him take a couple of stumbling steps away from the his spot at the bridge until he hit the railing behind the Captain’s position, and as she reached him and turned her attention forward her steps stuttered and she did the same. 

She could see it in the left of her field of view: a huge mass of ice and rock reflecting the light of the sun in pockmarked patterns, moving surprisingly slowly to the right in a way that made it difficult to tell where it was going if not straight for them, save for the smallest hints of a tail trailing out on the left.

Both Billie and Ryan were left staring out the window, wide-eyed and standing close together, perfectly frozen. At some point she realized that it was at least slightly to the ship’s starboard side, most definitely far enough not to hit them, but that didn’t do anything to thaw her out. She knew there were screams from the crew but she didn’t hear it. The comet was weirdly fascinating enough to drown everything else out and she felt like she couldn’t even move, let alone say anything until it was out of sight. She was the first one to find her voice.

“... holy shit.”

She looked at Ryan. He was still staring forward, wide-eyed and apparently still speechless.

“Holy _shit!_ ”

“... actually it might have taken some of the shit with it.”

She missed the murmured comment entirely.

“Did you _see_ that?”

He looked at her, puzzled, and then glanced forward out of the window from the corners of his eyes. It was subtle but sardonic but it couldn’t dampen her excitement; she raised her eyebrows at him, pressing her lips together in a wry line that still didn’t manage to affect her tone.

“That was _amazing._ ”

The bridge had taken on an eerie silence as the crew seemed to be in shock and both Billie and Ryan each took a deep, stabilizing breath and released it at the same time, maintaining the absolute silence for a moment before he offered a subdued mutter.

“Well. It was definitely...”

“... exciting?”

His eyebrows raised as he silently considered, his head tipping to the side. She looked at him, leaning slightly forward to attempt to put herself in his field of view.

“... pants-shitting?”

“ _That’s_ what I was thinking.”

A quiet breath of air—a laugh—escaped her and he finally looked back down to her with a familiar look, but one she felt she hadn’t seen in a while: a smile. It felt like it used to and that, more than anything else, was what sent a wave of relief through her. It didn’t last long. He held the headset that he’d been holding loosely in his hand up to his ear, speaking into the mic.

“What the hell just happened?”

Cyrus’s smarmy tone seeped through her headset as well.

“Well it looks like it’s not just the oxygen sensors having problems.”

Ryan’s voice was flat and irritated; Billie was glad he was doing the job for her.

“Yes, thank you, noted. Can we _do_ anything about it?”

“Definitely.”

Ryan didn’t bother trying to get any additional information from him. Instead he looked to Billie, his eyebrows raised in question.

“Oh.” She blinked, staring at him before the implied question finally sank in. “ _Oh!_ Right. Right, I almost had everything with the oxygen—” Realizing she’d left her tablet on the lower decks, she lifted her wrist and typed into her bracelet, bringing up her most recent information and briefly losing track of the rest of the room. 

“... Ironically…” She paused to scroll to the side, her eyes following the characters. It was funny how it washed the adrenaline of the past few minutes away. “... this will probably give me a huge head start with checking the other sensors.”

He breathed a sigh of relief and seemed to be genuinely trying to work through a thought in the brief silence.

“So… is this going to change how long we’re out here? The calculation, I mean.” 

She looked at him, not quite understanding, and he tipped his head to the side with a wincing frown.

“Please say no. Even if it’s shorter. I’ve grown somewhat fond of knowing literally anything at this point.”

“Oh! Because of the sensor errors. No, no it shouldn’t… think of it like… like the ship just didn’t quite know where the comet was.” 

He didn’t look particularly encouraged by it so she hurried on. 

“Obviously that’s something we’ll be checking, but it should just be the space directly around it that it’s having issues with.”

He squinted at her, lips pursed suspiciously. “... should.”

“Um…” Recalibrating, she lifted a finger to point assertively, a gesture that was more confident than her voice. “... will?”

When he narrowed his eyes at her she shrugged her shoulders, puffing her cheeks out in mild irritation with her breath. 

“We only ended up on the new course literal weeks ago, I wouldn’t expect all the kinks to be worked out yet. We’ll probably have to do a full inventory, in terms of which sensors are giving what readings, and figure out which ones aren’t calibrated correctly.”

He lowered his head into his hand, rubbing his temples with middle finger and thumb. His voice was a mutter.

“Well that’s better news than it could be.”

She pressed her lips together and considered him, looking over what she could see of his features while he wasn’t paying attention. It had been nice to see the smile. This particularly look was far too familiar in a much less pleasant way. He pulled his head upward abruptly with a deep, sharp inhale as if he’d been hit with a burst of water.

“Well I think that’s enough for me for one day.”

It was a little surprising. He’d already started to turn, facing her but clearly intending to walk past. She started, stopped and hesitated, and then started again.

“You know, I could use some help with all of this.” It sounded vaguely hopeful. That, she wasn’t all that thrilled about.

He tipped his head slightly to the side as he looked down at her, seeming unenthused.

“I’m guessing our crack team downstairs isn’t planning on sending any volunteers.”

She snorted.

“You wouldn’t really force me to work with Cyrus, would you?”

It felt like the first pointedly joking thing she’d said to him in weeks. His expression didn’t change and neither did his tone but the words felt different all the same. Like they might have felt a couple of weeks ago, before everything started to go to shit.

“I think that would be worse than being jettisoned.”

There was the briefest moment of lightness before he lifted his eyes away.

“Alright. I’m sure it will be better than dealing with passengers, at least.”

It seemed like there was a time where he would have actually been pleased to be going. It made her response sound a little dull, itself.

“Okay. I’ll let you know once I’ve gotten all of the information together?”

He nodded.

“As for me—” He took a deep breath and sighed. “I’m sure I have a pack of wild idiots to try to calm down.”

He’d moved past her but paused, turning his body to look at her fully.

“Thanks, Billie.”

She returned the stare and it lingered there for a long moment. It took far too much effort to smile.

“Sure.”

* * *

_Maybe_ she’d been looking for him. Maybe she used some of her data collecting as an excuse to linger around places where he often seemed to be. While she supposed she could just tell him she had all the data ready to go to meet with him it would be strange to hunt him down in person rather than just sending him a message to let him know. In reality it was pretty much all ready to go but she didn’t want to miss a chance to see him informally if it came along. She decided to give it one more try, and against all odds she found him.

He was standing outside of his quarters, mere feet from the door and focused down at his bracelet when she saw him. She hesitated for a second before shaking it off and starting her approach, trying to make herself obvious but apparently failing; he didn’t look up at her. 

“Ryan?”

It was only after she spoke that he raised his head. He blinked at her, his eyes lingering for a moment before his attention dropped back to his bracelet. 

“Hey, Billie.”

He was drunk. Or at least tipsy. She wasn’t sure how she knew, exactly, but there had to be something there that tipped her off, however subtle. She hesitated and kept her tablet lifted as she meandered a few steps closer, as if still planning to go back to her work after a brief conversation. If he were paying any attention at all it wouldn’t be convincing.

“Trouble with your door?”

“No, I’m…”

There was a pause as he squinted, pressing a few buttons again but slowly and ponderously, clearly still distracted. She narrowed an eye at him, wondering if it was on purpose or not.

“... trying to change the entry code.”

“Oh.”

She stood there with no indication from him he was paying her any attention or even realized she was still there. It started to wear on her nerves and she lifted a hand, resting it on her hip, leading.

“Do you want me to help?”

“Mm.... that’s alright. It’s likely time I learned anyway.”

She didn’t have a great response for it and went silent. It was impossible to not feel awkward; she realized she should leave but was having a difficult time making herself. She raised the tablet just to orient herself. Instead she noticed the time.

“Wait, aren’t you supposed to be at a meet and greet?”

 _That_ got a reaction. He lifted his head with a gently annoyed huff of air, fully pried away from his bracelet as he looked at her instead, raising an eyebrow.

“Iris _allowed_ me to leave early. Allowed me quite forcefully, actually.” 

The annoyance fell away, replaced with a faint upward curl of his lips as he lowered his eyes again. The expression looked oddly self-satisfied. Billie snorted and, without realizing, took a casual step closer, narrowing an eye at him in suspicion.

“What did you do?”

“She said that I was ‘agitating Mr. Judd’ by ‘stating facts’.” He lifted his head and looked back to her. “You might be rubbing off on me.”

Her lips curled in a smirk—an expression that was a little too pleased. Not only was he talking to her relatively freely, he’d just more-or-less complimented her. The alcohol must have been working in her favor. 

“Obviously not enough if you’re still struggling with your door.”

He stared at her with one eye narrowed. It felt tentative for a moment. But then he lowered his right hand to his pocket and lifted his left, raising an eyebrow in unexpected invitation, displaying the bracelet, so surprising that she blinked and hesitated before closing the remaining space, lowering her tablet and reaching out for it with her free hand.

“What do you want it to be?”

His voice was chiding. “Don’t just _do_ it, show me _how_.”

She couldn’t keep herself from casting a fake glare up at him, attempting to look displeased. But she started to do it all the same, navigating to the first menu before abruptly stopping and freezing entirely. It was absolutely still save for the way she saw his fingers curl slightly, a movement that seemed vaguely uncertain.

She glanced up to him to find him looking at her with an eyebrow raised in curiosity and implied question and she stared back, hesitating for a second longer before making the decision.

“I’ll do it on one condition.”

He looked immediately suspicious, eyeing her closely, and there was an air of caution to it that nearly made her lose her courage. But she took a deep breath, remembering her frustration at how he would barely interact with her, and released it with more determination.

“We’re going to the bar for a couple drinks.”

It was obvious that he was completely surprised; he stared at her in a blank stupor for a few seconds before shaking himself back to reality. Even after he seemed focused enough to really see her he didn’t immediately answer—his lips drew together in a thin, uncertain line and a furrow formed on his brow as he considered her. It was an agonizing wait, but it was worth it. His voice was dry when he responded.

“That’s more of a demand than a compromise, Billie.”

It was a huge relief. She couldn’t help the self-satisfied smile.

“I’ll buy.”

“You realize I don’t even have to pay.”

“Well, you’ll buy then.”

Despite his earlier response his smile faded and he seemed to genuinely need to consider it. He glanced to the door sensor, to the bracelet, and finally down the hall in the direction of the bar before returning his eyes to her.

“Alright. But then you show me how.”

“Agreed.”

He narrowed an eye at her, his lips curling upward in a faint smirk, and she returned the expression before turning and starting toward the bar with a much lighter feel to her footsteps.

* * *

Maybe demanding he come to the bar with her hadn’t been the best idea. She’d started with a fantastic momentum but it wore off a bit on their way; she couldn’t think of anything to say and he didn’t really help and it was both surprising and frustrating how quickly it started to take the wind out of her sails. She was absolutely sure the silence bothered her more than him. At least it was a short trip.

Already feeling awkward and uncomfortable and somewhat regretting the decision to ask him to come along, she didn’t want to run the risk of anyone else noticing them and making it even _more_ difficult, so she somewhat-hastily found a spot at the bar and breathed a sigh of relief as he slid into the seat beside her, the both of them as close to the back of the room as they could get. As soon as Ryan sat down he rested his elbow on the bartop, giving a casual gesture toward the bartender. Apparently it was all that was needed; within a moment a glass of whiskey had been slid in front of him and he took it in hand, taking a drink. The bartender turned to her.

“Yeah, um… the same.”

Her fingers tapped on the bar without realizing it until her drink showed up and she gratefully swept it up and drank as well, carefully clearing her throat afterward and making a point of looking at him, as if doing it might make it easier for her to feel normal somehow. He, however, let his eyes rove over the room before they came to rest on her more lightly, occasionally flitting away. Maybe it was better—it felt like it made it easier to talk.

“So I thought you could barely stand the champagne Judd served at those things.”

Apparently slightly surprised, one eye narrowed in suspicion.

“I feel like you’re accusing me of something.”

“Tch.” She downplayed her tentative smile as best she could. “Definitely not.”

She was rewarded with a smirk.

“Interestingly enough, I wasn’t allowed to drink the champagne, either.” He looked at her, one eyebrow raising. “Despite all of my pleas.”

She snorted as he went on.

“Iris said something about it needing to be rationed. I was relegated to mixed drinks.”

“It seems like she had it out for you.”

“If that’s how Iris has it out for people I should get on her bad side more often.”

She laughed, even if it was a bit subdued.

His lips curved uncertainly before it became an open smile and it was satisfying before she saw it falter, his brow furrowing above it. But it didn’t entirely disappear and he opted to take a drink to dispel the uncertainty. When he lowered his glass he looked like he was going to say something before abandoning it. He cleared his throat instead and glanced down to his glass and the liquid within it before casting his gaze out over the room instead. She swallowed and braced herself to get her momentum back, speaking determinedly.

“Did anything fun happen while you _were_ there?”

He looked at her without responding for a moment, his head tipping slightly to the side, and then looked down into his glass with languidly raised eyebrows.

“Something _interesting_ always happens. Fun, though…” His features scrunched as he looked upward, thinking, his free hand scratching idly at his beard. Soon enough his eyes flicked back down to her. “I think that’s a question of whose definition we’re using.”

She took a breath to answer. He immediately held up a hand to stop her.

“Considering that I had no choice but to attend and you weren’t invited I’m guessing our opinions are going to be substantially different.”

It wasn’t, actually, terrible with him talking. Especially when he raised his eyebrows expectantly for her response, silently _asking_ her to converse. It felt the slightest bit stiff, at least to her, but it was an invitation. One she hadn’t at all been sure she’d get. The faintest curl tugged upward at the corners of her lips.

“Fine. Did anything _interesting_ happen.”

It was like he’d been waiting for her to ask.

“Are you familiar with a woman named Sharon Williams? One of the passengers.”

An uneasy feeling dashed through her and she wasn’t sure why.

“No…”

“I am now _very_ familiar with her.”

She pressed her lips together as he went on. 

“Lovely woman. _Incredible_ grip strength. Very much enjoys crushing the life out of your arm while speaking to you.” His tone was still pleasant but it was easy to tell the words were more important. “I’m amazed I _could_ drink, thinking back on it. I’m fairly certain my arm was numb for most of the night.”

A breathed laugh that sounded vaguely relieved escaped her before she could stop it. He didn’t seem to notice the subtleties of it and instead smiled—something that grew slowly at her laugh. It was one that actually looked natural. The drink seemed less important; he hadn’t paid it any attention since they’d begun talking in earnest, only held it in his hand at his knee, his other elbow leaning against the bar.

“And what about you?” He paused, his voice coming to a sudden stop as he remembered. “Aside from the data collection.” 

She was actually somewhat disappointed that he remembered. It changed the tone of the conversation immediately back to business.

“Speaking of, where are we on that?”

She wasn’t thrilled to say it but she bit down and answered honestly.

“I was hoping we could meet tomorrow.”

“Perfect.” There was relief in his voice. And even more relief as he went on, choosing not to go into the topic any further. She couldn’t help but share the emotion.

“Any other interesting things happening?”

She couldn’t help but echo his own answer.

“The ship is _always_ interesting.”

“I feel like that’s something you would say regardless of the scenario. The ship could be nothing but a burnt-out hull and you’d probably still think it was interesting.”

She snorted.

“It’s a model JG-PC-A05. Of course I would.”

He narrowed his eyes at her with a gently puzzled smirk and his voice suggested genuine mystification as he raised his glass.

“You know, I still haven’t figured out which organic life form hurt you.”

“What?”

He took a small sip and lowered the glass, gazing into it for just a moment with something that looked like fondness before raising his eyes again. For some reason it was fascinating and she was still watching when he looked up. There was no recoil. Not from either of them.

“Why you only seem interested in mechanical things.”

“I mean, you’ve seen how _people_ are. At least ships like this make sense. And don’t drive you crazy with things like… like I don’t know, acting completely irrationally.” 

He raised an eyebrow, questioning and coaxing. It took her a second to realize the meaning and her voice went dry.

“Okay, yes, maybe it’s been a little… finicky for some reason.” She looked at him firmly. “But there’s _always_ a reason. You just have to find it.. And fix it.”

“People usually have reasons for being finicky.” He didn’t sound that convinced or invested, himself, looking back down in his glass.

“Yeah but you can’t just take a wrench to them and fix them.”

He looked upward, one eye narrowed as if thoughtful.

“Some might argue that depending on where you applied the wrench that would fix the problem pretty definitively.”

His lips curled in a smirk, and she looked at him, having to withhold a laugh with some effort, smothering it into a snort.

“If you’re trying to get me to admit homicidal tendencies for future evidence or something it’s not going to work.”

“Honestly? I think with about half the people on this ship you’d be justified.”

“Half?”

He _laughed_. Quiet. Barely discernible from a heavy breath. But a laugh all the same.

“The point is I wouldn’t testify against you.”

The conversation drifted into quiet but oddly it wasn’t uncomfortable. After a moment or two she realized she was leaning against the bar with her elbow, her cheek pressed into her closed fist and sat up straight, carefully, hoping it wouldn’t be that noticeable. Her hands joined together on her lap, both curled around the glass that she suddenly realized was near-empty. Rather than look at him she kept her eyes on the drink as she slid it back onto the bar.

“How do you do it?”

“Hm?”

He lifted his glass for a drink as she went on.

“Just… deal with people.”

His eyes flitted up to her, one eyebrow raised as he lowered the glass without taking a sip, replying in a wry tone.

“Alcohol, mostly.”

She snorted, amused, but looked at him a bit longer. Her voice sounded hesitant, something she only noticed when it escaped her. 

“I don’t think it’s just alcohol.”

He again had raised his glass but looked at her closely, holding it without taking a drink, searching her expression. She felt like she should be uncomfortable or nervous under the scrutiny but, inexplicably, she wasn’t. Still, she didn’t know how to follow it up, looking at him with a gently furrowed brow, thoughtful. He returned it. 

“And why would you say that?”

She leaned forward and carefully took his drink from his hand. He narrowed an eye, watching closely as she did, not moving or making any attempt to stop her. It slipped from between his fingers easily and she pulled it back toward herself to take a drink. The success allowed her a self-satisfied smile and he smiled back, failing to look annoyed, and gestured to the bartender for another drink as she went on. 

“Because if it was just alcohol I’d be just as…” Charming? She wouldn’t be using that. She struggled for a moment to find a word. “... likeable.”

“You’re likable.” 

There was absolutely no hesitation and he said it without looking at her, grabbing his new glass of whiskey as it slid across the bar and lifting it for a sip immediately. She dropped her chin slightly to look at him critically from under her lashes, dubious, but he snorted as if the response was ridiculous, breaking out into a smirk complete with lofted eyebrows.

“Joe liked you. Further evidence that anyone who thinks otherwise simply has no taste.” He shrugged matter-of-factly, pointing briefly with another thought. “Besides, people don’t like _me_. They like the uniform and the accent. Hell, I don’t know, maybe the facial hair.”

It wasn’t self-conscious. He stated it like a fact he’d known for a long time. But he _did_ take a drink with it. She immediately shot back with a firm voice.

“Incorrect.”

He stopped completely and stared at her; his eyes had narrowed and his lips were parted in an incredulous smile.

“... incorrect? That’s it?”

Not quite following what he meant, she offered him a helpless shrug. 

“I put the effort in and gave you reasons, at least.”

It was clearly meant in good humor and she huffed a breath that was both relief and faked offense, replying flatly.

“Alright, fine. The engineers like you. I mean, the non-uniform-non-accented you.” She raised an eyebrow. “Is that good enough?”

He laughed, again. It was a low and natural thing, a chuckle that nearly forced his eyes closed with it, leaving them as pleased half-moons until he recovered from it. And then they settled into a pause, both seeming to have forgotten their drinks, only looking at each other directly, not wincing away. She wasn’t sure how long the moment went on but she did notice how his expression changed to something gently thoughtful and, after a few moments more, his eyes drifted inches lower to her lips.

It took her partially out of the hazy moment and she felt her own pulse for a moment, her lips parting slightly to accommodate for the deeper breath that came with it. 

The sound of the microphone was _particularly_ jarring.

She heard a familiar voice from a distance behind her, magnified. It was probably just her general disorientation that left her needing a second to recognize it.

“Ladies and gents—”

It was Jordan, of course. Somehow, against all odds, she’d managed to forget he would have a set. Somehow she’d forgotten him entirely. Maybe removing him from her contact list hadn’t been the best idea; maybe leaving him there would at least have served as a reminder that he existed.

Stiffening, her mind went through a brisk list of possibilities for escape that included just ducking away. But Ryan was still there, and the conversation had actually, _finally_ become something like it used to be. The thought hit her abruptly in the milliseconds of distraction she had: _this_ felt like normal, but it didn’t feel quite like it used to. And she had the briefest moment to wonder if ‘normal’ was really what she expected it to be.

The world snapped back into place violently when the mic squealed and she winced, recalling where she was. She could count one blessing: she wasn’t just at the back of the room, but her back was also to the comedian. Maybe Jordan wouldn’t notice her. Her position did, however, give her a perfect view of something else: Ryan lifted his eyes toward the stage with much more subdued surprise that she could still see in the way his eyes widened, the muscles of his jaw went slack, and one of his eyebrows lofted upward gently. He looked at the man for a moment longer before turning his attention to his drink, gazing down into the amber liquid, and then shifting his eyes toward her. It was a remarkably brief look. A moment later he’d tipped the glass back and the whiskey was gone, swallowed in one fell swoop that she barely had time to process before he was on his feet and tugging lightly downward on the cuffs of his sleeves, his eyes down on them to focus on the movement.

“Thanks for the invitation.”

She tried to think of something to say but he gave her no time and she almost didn’t manage to say anything before he was already at the door. Her mind scrambled together the best it could.

“Goodnight!”

She winced. It sounded completely idiotic and he was probably too far along to even have heard it.

She was left sitting, blinking and briefly completely lost, her glass still in her hand and Jordan entirely forgotten even as he was speaking in the background. She wasn’t worried anymore about him noticing her or drawing attention to her or trying to start up some kind of conversation while on stage. She was too focused on trying to figure out what, exactly, had just happened.

Abruptly remembering her surroundings, she considered her drink as well. A small part of her flashed a warning that her yell might have attracted her attention and she should leave, but she shoved it aside irritably. What did it even matter?

When no kind of enlightenment came to her she shook herself off. Beginning to think that maybe Ryan had the right idea, she looked down to her drink. It suddenly didn’t seem that interesting; she shoved the still-half-full glass back onto the bartop and made a hasty retreat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> to anyone annoyed with how this chapter went (re: regression of things) I will say please trust me, things had to happen this way in order for things to go down the way they ultimately do. also, worry not, you shan't have to wait much longer for a resolution to this weirdness and some general misunderstandings, this isn't a repeatedly-pull-the-rug-out-from-under-the-protagonists'-relationship kind of fic
> 
> also on a less fun kind of note........ I was laid off from my job last week. you can always check out my tumblr (its-yaboi-nez) if you feel like helping! if not though, I can't even describe how much I love getting commenets/kudos. :)


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *ahem* sorry for the wait...

Billie hadn’t bothered looking over the data any more. She’d planned to prep for the morning meeting she’d set up with Ryan but after being left at the bar so abruptly she wasn’t exactly in the mood, so she made a bee-lilne for her bunk and peeled off her jumpsuit, falling into her bed with a sigh. It was hard not to dwell on the confusion of Ryan abandoning her but she didn’t exactly want to allow herself too much time to think on it, particularly given how tired she was, so she forced herself to close her eyes and laid there trying not to think. She still couldn’t figure out why he left so quickly. Unfortunately it was a thought that chased her into her sleep.

She woke up feeling slightly groggy and pushed herself out of bed, turning off the alarm her bracelet was giving her, and pulled on her clothes without any enthusiasm, looking down to the time on her wrist. Judd’s meeting would be in another twenty minutes, then meeting with Ryan, and she stared blankly at the time for a few long seconds more before shaking herself back to reality. She might as well stop wasting time; she grabbed her tablet as she headed topside, hoping to get some troubleshooting done on the way to the meeting and probably during it as well—if she was lucky Judd would get off on some tangent and wouldn’t even notice, and she’d be able to get a bit more done before it was over. She was paying too much attention to her datapad when the shadow of someone about to pass by her started to slow and even though she tried to block it out it looked suspiciously like it was stopping. She raised her eyes as quickly and subtly as possible.

It was Karen. Of course it was Karen. And when she was already in  _ such _ a good mood.

Billie kept her head down and her eyes on her tablet with no intention to look up but she couldn’t ignore the voice.

“Well if it isn’t Little Miss Sunshine.”

It took a second for the wave of general dislike to move over her before she could answer.

“Well, if it isn’t Little Miss Can’t-Tell-When-Someone-Doesn’t-Want-To-Talk-To-Her.” Intending to keep moving, Billie’s feet paused as she tried to gather her thoughts. “Which is always.”

She kicked herself. She wished she could be more clever, sometimes; this was one of them.

Karen gave a careless laugh.

“Oh, sweetie. You’re just as pleasant as always. I would have thought you’d be in a better mood.”

Billie finally looked up at her with a glare. The sarcastic insult didn’t bother her. The word ‘sweetie’ did. The unexplained comment didn’t help.

“‘What exactly is  _ that _ supposed to mean?”

“I heard that  _ someone’s _ been out canoodling with our local up-and-coming comedian.”

Billie blinked, incredulous; it took her a second to even process the thought and when she finally did find her voice she couldn’t keep it from being openly hostile.

“Wow, okay. If that someone is supposed to be me then you heard wrong.”

“I don’t think so. There aren’t that many people who walk around in jumpsuits on the ship, believe it or not.”

It felt like her hair was bristling. Someone had to have told her. If Karen had been in the bar Billie  _ absolutely _ would have noticed. How had she not realized kissing Jordan in public might be a terrible idea? Or even kissing him at all. She shoved the irritation down as best she could. Obviously she wouldn’t be able to convince the woman otherwise and it seemed pointless anyway. What did it matter? Karen could think whatever the fuck she wanted. Billie let the ire into her voice—the other woman didn’t deserve to be spared it anyway.

“Is this junior high? Seriously. Have I suddenly entered a time warp? Can I make sure I never have to live in a future where I know you?”

Before Karen could answer Billie turned her attention back to her tablet, not actually seeing it but determined to at least look like she was ignoring her as she turned and started to walk, briefly forgetting where she’d been going. Luckily it seemed Karen was headed in the other direction, but of course she had to get in one last comment.

“You two make a cute couple. Good luck, sweetheart!”

Billie gathered together the most pleasant voice she could muster, matching the other woman’s tone.

“Fuck off, Karen!”

* * *

Billie wasn’t exactly thrilled at the idea of dealing with Judd’s bullshit; sitting around listening to him come up with completely incomprehensible plans and then arguing with him for an hour about the physical impossibilities of it wasn’t exactly her idea of a good time. On top of her sour mood from the run-in with Karen it seemed like the better idea would be not to go. She was pretty sure no one would even miss her except Ryan. 

The thought to cancel with  _ him _ didn’t even occur to her. True, there were things to talk about regarding the ship, but the prior night—until his unexplained and abrupt departure—had actually been pretty pleasant, and some part of her was hoping if she could coax it out of him she could possibly get a repeat.

But with the ship…

She didn’t want to meet him on the bridge. There were too many keywords that she would be saying that the crew might easily overhear, and even without that risk she never knew when passengers might wander in. And while she knew none of it was anything they needed to worry about on any urgent timeline even just saying the word ‘oxygen’ or ‘impact’ around any of them might cause them to panic. The crew was still on edge enough after the comet as it was.

It would be better to meet Ryan somewhere else. She sent a message to let him know.

_ I’m skipping the meeting with Judd. Can we meet at the restaurant? Deck three? _

The response came near-instantly.

_ Sure. _

* * *

The spectre of Karen still hung over her as she entered the restaurant but she did her best to shake it off and actually felt a small wave of relief at seeing Ryan at one of the tables, waiting for her. At least this would probably be a pleasant interaction, if the previous night had been any indication. Or at least, she figured she could make it one. But as she got closer she noticed the way his shoulders curved and the way his fingers were toying idly with the lid of a coffee cup as he waited, staring into the distance at nothing in particular.

“Starting early?”

Ryan blinked to attention, his eyes focusing on her before dropping back to the cup.

“Starting late.” 

His voice was gravelly and low. Had he not slept? He lifted the drink up for a sip, taking his time before going on.

“It’s only coffee. Mostly.”

She smirked, raising an eyebrow as she slipped into a seat next to him.

“How was the morning Judd-fest?”

“Fuck if I know.”

He lifted his hand and rubbed the pads of his thumb and forefinger gently against his closed eyelids in a look of obvious exhaustion. It was enough for her to look at him a little more closely, curious and slightly concerned.

“Were you there?”

“Physically? Yes.”

She left him the room to go on but he didn’t take it, and after a few seconds to let the silence linger she decided it didn’t seem like an avenue she’d get much farther with. It was quickly becoming apparent that the pleasant interaction she’d hoped for was probably not going to be on the menu. The corners of her lips tugged slightly downward and she didn’t bother to hide it—he wasn’t looking anyway—and she did her best to re-focus as she looked back down to her tablet. She might as well get started.

“Okay, so— _ first _ of all, the good news: everything seems more or less okay.”

She hadn’t really wanted the ‘seems‘. Or the ‘more or less’. But she figured honesty was the better way to go, considering that that’s what the meetings were supposed to be for. Thankfully when she lifted his eyes to him he didn’t seem upset by it; he just maintained the stare back at her, his expression completely neutral. It seemed like it should be encouraging but something about it wasn’t. She looked back down again.

“The oxygen readings  _ are _ off, but they’re showing that the ship is actually putting out a higher oxygen to nitrogen ratio than before.” Realizing something, she glanced at him before making an amendment. “Just… more oxygen than before.”

He raised an eyebrow. She cleared her throat and looked back to the datapad. 

“Anyway, even though I’m still not sure  _ why _ it’s doing it, tossing in more oxygen isn’t a bad thing.” Her voice lowered, closer to a mutter. “In fact, all things considered it might be better. The whole comet thing, though—” There was a pause as she pressed her lips together, looking at the information in front of her, still trying to process it even as she spoke. “... well… essentially it seems like the ship’s navigational system wanted to tell us one thing while the external sensors wanted to tell us another, and that’s why we ended up with the alarm.” She raised her eyebrows in some semblance of a shrug. “Granted, one that still made us aware of a giant object headed our way, even if it wasn’t actually going to hit us. Another thing that’s probably still good to know? Cam’s going to look into things on the navigational side so hopefully we can find an explanation there.”

“Anyway I’m not sure when it all started to happen—it could have been during the initial gravity flip or when we recalibrated for Space Baby, or even  _ before _ the grav flip.” She sighed, not pleased at the possibility, and took a second to gently scratch at her scalp with her attention briefly completely on the readings in front of her, temporarily lost.

“Obviously we’ll focus on checking the critical systems first—the wetsuit, oxygen, water filtration. But essentially, worst case scenario for troubleshooting we might have to take direct readings of a reasonable sample size from all areas of the ship. Atrium, guest rooms, recreation areas… I’m still working on figuring out the best way to do it but hopefully we can have a good chunk of data by the time we get another chance to talk to mission control back on Earth.”

She glanced up from her datapad to see him staring blankly into the surface of the table and pressed her lips together, pushing an annoyed huff of air out through her nose.

“... are you listening?”

“Hm? Sorry, I…”

He trailed off without an excuse. She wasn’t sure if he’d heard a single word of it. Distracted or just tired, she couldn’t even tell if he was even _ trying  _ to pay attention; he went to take a drink but got nothing, looking down into his empty cup before casting a glance toward the bar, craning his neck and clearly considering it until his attention snapped back to her at her voice. She wasn’t bothering to hide her irritation.

“You’re the one who said you wanted to know this stuff. The only reason I’m even here is because you said we should have these meetings.”

He sighed and lowered his forehead onto his palm, his elbow pressed against the table, empty cup still in his right hand. It left his voice slightly muffled.

“Can we not today, Billie?”

“Not what? If you didn’t want to meet you could have just said so.”

“That’s  _ clearly  _ not what I meant.”

His tone had started to sound gently annoyed as well and she found herself confused and no less irate.

“I literally have no idea what you’re talking about.”

He pushed himself upward in the chair, leaning back, and lifted his hand in lieu of a shrug.

“Alright. Meetings are cancelled, indefinitely, effective immediately. You know what you need to do anyway so you’re free to go.”

She blinked, staring at him. He stared back, completely expressionless. It hurt, vaguely. She did her best to push the feeling out of the way and narrowed an eye at him with a quieter voice, curious but also distrustful.

“... what are you doing?”

He took in a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose with a sigh, closing his eyes tightly for a moment. It seemed like he was trying to gather the patience for whatever he was planning to say.

“Look, Billie…” 

His features screwed together and his eyes swept upward as he tried to think, and she got the feeling that the difficulty wasn’t just because of sleep deprivation but possibly not actually knowing how to express himself. 

“If this is ‘going back to normal’, all other factors included I’m not sure how long I’m going to be able to go without becoming a complete gibbering mental case. Considering how the _ rest  _ of my life is going, adding in complicating factors—”

She narrowed an eye in puzzlement, lost on several fronts.

“Complicating factors?”

But he brushed the question aside, finishing his thought instead.

“And I have to admit I feel like I’ve been getting some  _ slightly  _ mixed signals, which hasn’t exactly simplified things.”

The word sounded sarcastically under-emphasized and his chin dropped slightly to allow him to look at her with that same flat expression. It took him staring directly at her for far too long for her to understand.

Going back to normal.

Complicating factors.

Mixed signals.

Oh.  _ Oh _ . He meant  _ her _ .

The realization came with a spike of her pulse. The whole thing with Ryan wasn’t something she wanted to talk about at all, but she most definitely didn’t want to talk about it in public. For one thing, she wasn’t at all prepared. Her mind ran through a series of rapid thoughts—including a brief but desperate attempt to avoid thinking about  _ exactly _ what he might be trying to say—before stopping on one: Karen. 

If someone had seen her and Jordan in a nearly-empty bar there was no reason to think someone wouldn’t see her and Ryan in a nearly-empty restaurant, and she doubted she’d do well keeping herself looking calm and composed if they started having a conversation about… whatever this was.

Her voice was lowered when she spoke, sounding more focused. She’d hoped for ‘angry’ but unfortunately it came out as ‘slightly nervous’.

“This is where you want to talk about this? Here?”

“Well, you’ve left me so many avenues of speaking privately...”

She didn’t appreciate the sarcastic tone and narrowed her eyes at him. Her mood had started to fall into a toxic mix of feelings: surprise, confusion, tension, and whatever the best way might be to fix it, it definitely didn’t involve sitting out in the open. She stared at him for a long moment. The words were sudden and barely even felt like she was the one saying them.

“Come with me.”

It might have been a slightly more firm demand than she’d intended. She stood up and looked around briskly—the door to the kitchen. It seemed reasonable to think that maybe no one would be in the kitchen or food storage. Maybe it was her sixth sense; her backward glance proved that Ryan had stood to follow her but he was veering slightly toward the center of the restaurant to get the bartender’s attention and she hastily took the two steps back to him and snatched his hand from the air with a hiss.

“Can you not?”

He paused and peered at her closely as if carefully considering the question.

“As a general question, or in this specific moment?”

She gave him a hard, warning look that he seemed at least to understand even if he glanced back at the bar before following after her.

They entered the kitchen and, despite seeing no one else present, she kept up her hasty pace until they were in food storage. And after a quick glance that proved the entire place was completely empty she immediately turned on him to look him square in the eyes, still running on adrenaline.

“Why are you bringing this up now? I thought we agreed things would go back to normal.”

“Billie, there’s normalcy and then there’s…” Hesitating, he looked upward and gestured vaguely at the space. “Whatever this is.” His voice dropped to a mutter. “... standing around whispering in food storage, for some reason.”

She glanced around as well, as if just realizing where they were and what was happening, but she snapped out of her daze when she heard the tired sigh followed by a single, blunt question. 

“Just tell me why you did it.”

It was completely calm. Nothing in his expression had changed. It stopped her in her tracks, though, as she tried to figure out what he meant.

“Do what?”

His chin tipped slightly at an angle so that he could fix her with a look that was remarkably dry.

“Become an engineer. No, what do you think?”

Her complete lack of understanding must have been clear; he lowered his voice and spoke in a deliberate, leading voice.

“When you escorted me to my cabin?”

… complicating factors and mixed signals. She stared back at him, hesitating. She knew she took too long to reply, but in fairness it was hard for her to find an answer when even she didn’t know what it was. It didn’t help that it was something she very much didn’t want to talk about and her first thought was what slipped out, unfiltered. The words sounded lame even to her.

“... I was drunk, and—”

She didn’t even finish. He narrowed an eye as he tipped his head just slightly at an angle; it was a surprisingly intimidating look and it took her voice away, leaving him to fill in the gap. He didn’t sound particularly pleased.

“I was drunk. You weren’t. And, forgive me if I’m wrong, but if I recall correctly  _ you _ came on to  _ me _ , to put it lightly.”

For some reason it was hard to look away and she swallowed, unable to argue the point but also not that keen on elaborating on it. Luckily Ryan interrupted the quiet again.

“Not that it’s my place, but don’t you think you should tell him?”

She heard the words but when she tried to put them together they made no sense, as if they were a language she didn’t even know. It completely reset her brain, not for the first time that morning, and it took her a second to pull herself together to even ask.

“Who?”

“That… what’s his name. The terrible comic.”

Both of them stared blankly at each other. Her expression began as something deeply confused, his started as perfectly grounded, but as the seconds ticked by both started to change. Ryan began to look far less certain and her own eyes went wide; her jaw dropped and her voice escaped as a near-whisper at the realization.

“Oh my god. Karen Mouth.”

“What?”

Her eyes refocused to find him with a furrowed brow, clearly completely lost.

“Did Karen tell you that I’m with Jordan?”

She knew the answer before he even had to say anything. He’d raised an eyebrow slowly. Not languidly. Not with disinterest. Just… tired, with the tone to match.

“My guess is more likely that she told about half of the ship, who then told the other half, which must have included Matt, who then felt the need to tell me.” He paused and then cocked his head to the side with the thought as if mentally counting on his fingers, continuing. “Then Iris.  _ Then  _ Karen. And then Matt again, for some reason.” 

He stopped again briefly with lofted eyebrows and lifted a finger to make the point as his eyes focused back on her. “Which, I have to say, he is _ very  _ supportive of you two. Some might say uncomfortably supportive.” The thought seemed to run away with him and he squinted, apparently thinking. “I know Judd said that we’ve had him vetted but are we absolutely sure he isn’t on some kind of list?”

It wasn’t sarcasm; if she didn’t already know how strange Matt was it was easy to read in Ryan’s matter-of-fact tone. God knew how much Matt had been talking about it. All of it was enough for her to forget Ryan’s presence entirely, just as he seemed to have briefly forgotten hers. She adopted a wide-eyed forward stare and the words were murmured as if it were a realization. 

“I’m going to kill her.”

A few seconds passed before she finally remembered where she was. She shook herself to reset her own expression and stared at Ryan, saying the words without even thinking.

“I’m not.”

“What?”

“I’m  _ not with Jordan. _ ”

He stared at her for an uncomfortably long moment in complete silence, as if something in him had broken and had to be hastily shoved back together again before he could properly react. “Can  _ anything _ make sense. Just for a few days.” The words dropped to a mutter as he spoke to himself, his hand in his hair as he stared blankly forward in a tone that seemed to back up the statement. “I feel like I’m losing my mind.”

Not sure what to say—or even if it was a good idea to say anything at all—she waited until it started to feel like he might be far too deep in his own head. She cleared her throat carefully and it seemed to snap him back to reality. His eyes were alert again as he shifted them to her even if they still looked exhausted.

“Would you mind telling me what’s going on? Just for my sanity’s sake.”

Relieved that they were talking again, she blurted out the simplest version she could think of.

“I kissed Jordan. Someone must have seen it and told Karen we were going out or something. And then she told basically everyone else.”

“Ah. I see.”

As she finished he crossed one arm over his chest with the elbow of the other sat on top of it, his hand lifted so that he could bury his head in it and press his thumb and middle finger into his temples and she realized it hadn’t been quite what he meant. Or at least it hadn’t been  _ all _ that he meant.

She didn’t really want to explain any of the other things. The things involving him. But she got the feeling that if she didn’t at least try he might not bother ever trying to ask again and things might just always be like… whatever this was, maybe without being able to be fixed. She swallowed and took a breath, opting to try.

“I just wanted to see…”

She hadn’t planned the words well enough—or at all—and they stuttered to a stop as she hesitated. It was the worst possible timing. His eyes snapped open and he looked up at her from under his brows. She’d seen somewhat similar looks from him before but this… this seemed vaguely dangerous, a thought backed up by the fact that his voice was hard and flat and was lined with suspicion.

“... just wanted to see.”

The implication of what she’d said hit her like a brick wall. If her only reason to kiss Jordan was to test… something, it didn’t make what she’d done with Ryan look particularly good. It was easy to see what he might be thinking and she backpedaled, hard. 

“No! Well I mean, yes. But with Jordan. Not you.” 

Miserably failing to express herself and trying to keep her resulting frustration from overwhelming her, her features pinched with effort as she tried again.

“I mean, he  _ obviously  _ wanted to go out with me—” It was said with a laugh that was meant to be conspiratorial but it turned nervous and weak as she realized it wasn’t  _ exactly  _ the right tone for the conversation. She swallowed and pushed out a deep breath.

“I kissed Jordan because I wanted to figure out… I don’t know.” She had to force herself to go on. “With you it just… kind of happened.”

She let the words settle for a second before taking a deep breath, and then for some reason it was easier to go on and the words tumbled out of her.

“And now everything’s just become a huge shitshow. I don’t even know what I was thinking. I don’t think I was thinking.” She made a point of not looking at him, her eyes flitting away to focus on the other side of the room. “I’m an idiot. Feel free to use that against me in future conversations.” She paused at a thought and went on with a dull mutter. “If those are going to exist.”

She glanced carefully back to find him watching her without answering. Staring, really. It was a look that didn’t seem to fit; she expected something like anger or—if she were lucky—maybe some kind of understanding or even relief, but instead his features were nearly blank in a way that made him look sort of defeated. Her explanation clearly hadn’t worked… not that it had really been much of one anyway. She bit the inside of her cheek, not sure what else she could do, and ended up just trying not to move. It felt like if she did she might somehow manage to make things worse. He closed his eyes as if he needed to to process all of it and a few long seconds went by before he opened them with a deep sigh, finally speaking in a mutter, both his expression and his voice steeped in resignation.

“... oh, fuck it.”

He took two steps forward to close the gap between them and leaned into her, cradling her jaw with his hands as he pressed his lips to hers. 

It was completely unexpected; her body didn’t know what to do and she just stood, shocked, and it wasn’t until she felt him start to pull away that her hands darted upward and curled firmly around his wrists in what had to be reflex. He was looking at her with darkened eyes, breathing slowly, and she realized that she could feel his pulse under her fingertips. As his eyes flicked over her features in a careful search of her expression she finally blinked—a rapid series meant to orient herself—and lowered her eyes to his lips. For a moment there was nothing and then when he started to move she almost didn’t realize it; it was slow, the way he leaned toward her once again, and her lips parted as his grew closer and even though she could feel his pulse spiking when he brushed his lips against hers it was tentative, like he thought she might pull him away but she didn’t move. Before it was too surprising for her to even focus. This time…

Her eyes slipped closed as he pressed in to her and as his tongue met hers she breathed out and it felt as if everything in her body left her. Her grip on his wrists weakened before she lost her hold on him entirely and she found his jacket instead, holding to it as best she could. Maybe it was her grip or maybe it had been his intention—the momentum of an insistent push—but her feet shuffled back against the floor and after a second she felt a solid surface at her back and only had a flash of conscious thought that suggested it must be the side of a storage unit. Her head was swimming and the thought promptly drowned, brushed aside instead by the feeling of his body pressed flush against her own. The whole world was just warmth and the solid feel of him but eventually she had to come up for air; she pulled back and they parted, each taking a deep breath. 

She didn’t bother trying to subdue the obvious rise and fall of her chest; his matched, obvious enough for it not to matter, and they caught each other’s eyes again. Somehow this time they both seemed more aware of it, like the dreamy surprise had faded and they were both seeing the reality of the situation instead and in the seconds they stared at each other she could  _ feel _ the sudden change of things—the flip of a switch—and her mind immediately shifted course as she let go of his jacket.

She grasped for the waist of his trousers, pushing the jacket impatiently out of the way in the process, and found the fastenings with her fingers. The button slid easily from its slot and his voice escaped as something like a half-smothered yelp, sounding almost indignant from the shock of it.

“Holy  _ shit _ , Billie—”

The heated breath of air that left her was barely recognizable as a laugh. His hands had left her and were instead pressed against the solid surface on either side of her like he was bracing himself. She took advantage of the slight distance it created, sliding her fingertips between his loosened trousers and his undershirt until she found the warmth of his skin at his abdomen and her hands immediately started exploring for something else, sinking lower. He made a throaty sound, swallowing, and finally realizing it would be easier with his trousers loosened, she withdrew both hands to find his zipper.

There was a sound from the kitchen. A cabinet closing, maybe, or something else with a similar knock, distant but still close enough to hear. Ryan must have noticed too; they shared a split-second, wide-eyed stare before he pulled back and stood up straight, quickly and not-entirely-smoothly fixing his trousers as she brushed down her jumpsuit, taking a few steps away from him before casting a brisk glance over the space in an instinct to hide. Her eyes caught on a space between two crates. Without a second thought she darted deeper into the room and slid into the slim opening, leaving Ryan standing in the open with just enough time to stare at her in incredulous disbelief before she saw the plastic flaps that separated the storage room from the kitchen being swept to the side and she ducked completely out of sight. She only had the voice to go on; it was a man’s voice—an unfamiliar one—and it sounded surprised and unsure of itself.

“Oh. Captain?”

“Yes…?” The syllable started firmly, as if Ryan had had a plan of what to say. It ended entirely the opposite. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Hello.”

“Can I help you with anything? Is something wrong?”

“No, no I, ah—” There was a pause. It sounded like Ryan was blanking and she cringed, listening closely but completely unable to help. He recovered just before she thought the other man might finally speak. “Actually, I was told we were rationing champagne and wanted to follow up on stock myself.”   
“Oh. Well, I handle some of the stocking. I didn’t know of any shortage but I can—”

She heard a single step and instinctively knew it was in her direction. She had a second for a spike of panic before the sound of movement stopped—maybe Ryan had grabbed the man’s shoulder, maybe the man had just stopped on his own, she didn’t know—but Ryan’s voice stumbled out over itself with a breathy, nervous laugh.

“That’s—that’s alright, there’s no need to, ah…” 

She heard a faint cough before he continued.

“I’ll just follow up with the crew member who mentioned it and figure out where the miscommunication was. Maybe instead, we’ve…” The words trailed off as he lost them but came back with complete confidence. “—had some complaints on the food. Can you take me to the head chef?”

“... I’m also the one of the chefs...” 

She could barely hear the mumble but she covered her face in her hands anyway. At the very least she couldn’t hear any movement. A moment later she heard the man’s disheartened voice again. 

“Do you want me to check it later?”

Ryan bounced back with a laugh of his own that only sounded slightly unconfident.

“And waste even a millisecond of all that talent? No, I don’t think there’s any need for that.” His voice dropped to a conspiratorial mutter that she almost couldn’t hear. “I wouldn’t worry too much about anything the passengers say. They haven’t exactly been agreeable since… well. Ever really.”

The ‘Captain’ voice had solidified itself, and once it was there it was surprisingly convincing. She breathed a sigh of relief and as the two voices became slightly muffled carefully poked her head out to see Ryan steering the man through the plastic flaps and out of the room.

She wasn’t sure how long she should wait. Usually impatience was something she had to fight but this was easier—in fact she found herself exceptionally hesitant to even leave. But she had to eventually and she steeled herself before looking between the plastic flaps and found the kitchen empty. Somehow Ryan had gotten the man out and she took her chance, slipping out and casting a quick and not-entirely-inconspicuous look around the restaurant. Ryan had taken the man to the bar and along with the bartender they were chatting amicably, even if the chef did still look a little bit downtrodden. She didn’t need any more information; she disappeared as quickly as possible through a crew-only door and closed it behind her, leaning back and taking a deep, calming breath.

She didn’t stop to think; there wasn’t any question of where she was going. She knew the passages like the back of her hand and slipped through the various maintenance ways, taking the steps between decks to keep mostly out of sight, and soon enough found herself on the main deck within sight of the door to Ryan’s cabin and abruptly not sure what to do. It hadn’t exactly been explicit: he hadn’t said he’d meet her anywhere and she never said she’d meet him, but her nerves were still humming from the feel of him and it wasn’t a feeling she expected to go away quickly. Nevertheless, a wall of inexplicable doubt raised in front of her and she suddenly stopped at the thought in the middle of the hallway, staring blankly forward. Her mind went briefly blank as it considered the thought that maybe it had been some spur-of-the-moment mistake, but she quickly rewound it and played it—what she could remember of it—over in her head, shivering at the thought of having her hands under his clothing.

If it was a mistake on Ryan’s end it was something that would need to be figured out one way or another. Annoyed with herself, she started forward once again, doing her best to look casual.

She could see his cabin at the end of the hall and it wasn’t until she was nearly there that her heart started to pound. She knew she had to have beaten him there, but the question was: what was she going to do until he showed up? Her feet moved as if on autopilot and she turned abruptly to follow the curving wall to the right, honing in on one of the lighting fixtures with a sort of mindless desperation. Still not sure exactly what she was doing, she stared at the illuminated sign for a second before glancing to either side of herself, finding the hallway briefly empty, and reached up behind one of the letters and—without so much as thinking—tore out one of the wires, leaving the light to flicker and die.

She didn’t have her tools with her, only her bracelet, but she was wearing a maintenance uniform and if she looked at her bracelet with enough focus in front of something that was broken it shouldn’t be too hard to look inconspicuously busy. So she hoped, anyway. God knew how long or how well she could make it look like she was doing something useful but she could damn well try. 

Billie stared down at her bracelet and acted like she was deeply engrossed with it, mindlessly scrolling and selecting things at random. It was a good way to monitor it for messages as well, but there was nothing. She was starting to get irritated when she finally heard him.

He was coming down the hallway, clearly greeting passengers but not stopping to chat, and when she heard his voice reverberate around the curve of the hall she glanced up sidelong from her bracelet in his direction in the hopes of… well, a lot of things. That he might see her. That passengers wouldn’t. That passengers wouldn’t even be present, actually.

His door slid open as he looked skeptically up at the sensors and then he paused, glancing quickly to either side, and their eyes met. It was a split second but it was sharp with intensity and he looked backward to the other branch of the hallway before stepping inside his room, the door sliding shut behind him. Not completely sure whether the coast was clear she nonetheless abandoned the damaged sign and walked briskly to his door, looking down the joining hallways in a way that was entirely too obvious before punching a code in her bracelet, and felt the door open behind her. He hadn’t changed it. She backed quickly into the room and immediately ran into him, her nerves reacting more quickly than necessary as she whipped around. He looked surprised but he wasn’t looking at her, instead hurriedly swiping the door closed with his eyes upward at the sensors, and for once the door cooperated completely.

She was only a few inches away from him and her heart was pounding, in no small part from running straight into him. But despite the way his breath seemed a bit short as well, when he lowered his eyes to her he made a point to press his lips together in a thin, displeased line.

“Really?”

It was probably relief that nearly caused her to laugh but she bit it back, not quite sure just how legitimate his irritation was.

“Sorry.”

It didn’t sound particularly sorry. He sounded no less indignant.

“Sorry? You left me with my trousers open in the middle of the fucking room. I was nearly buggered.”

He sounded somehow both exasperated and distracted and she noticed the comment left him slightly out of breath. She didn’t have an answer for it and he went on.

”In more ways than one, I have to add.”

_ That _ in particular sounded… frustrated.

“Yes, and you almost sent him right to me.” 

“What was I supposed to do, tell him it was where I go to meditate?”

“Hm.” Billie paused just long enough to make it seem like she’d thought it over. “I guess the alcohol thing was more convincing.”

He tipped his chin slightly at an angle with an eye narrowed in a warning stare. For a second her heart jumped before she forced the worry she felt away and steeled herself with a breath, looking at him more firmly.

“Oh, get over it.”

It seemed reflexive, the way he opened his mouth to retort, but he immediately paused. The look on his features changed—his eyes were still narrowed but the offense was gone, replaced by clearly grudging acquiesence. If the situation were different she might laugh; as it was there was only room for a flash of amusement as she grasped the front of his jacket and gave him a firm tug toward her. For a second he seemed just as surprised as before, as that first time in his quarters, like he’d forgotten everything after their brief conversation in the restaurant. His posture bent into her pull and everything on his expression changed with a breath of obvious anticipation and it all started to unravel again.

She pressed into him forcefully, pulling him into a demanding kiss at the same time she leaned her weight into  _ him _ , enough that it took him off guard. He took a few stumbling steps back before regaining his balance and followed her momentum. It was awkward; their movement was interrupted in starts and fits as she started the hasty business of unlacing her shoes as they moved. He made a heated sound, half breath and half groan, something low from his chest, and even she would have to admit that it had changed the air somehow. Everything felt like it was accelerating as she slipped one boot off and started on the other. The second one was easier and she let it thud to the floor to look up and find him struggling with his own shoe. Unable to help without making it even more complicated, she felt a brief flash of frustrated impatience before he managed to abandon both shoes as well and he barely had time to stand up straight before her hands were on him again.

Her fingers plucked the buttons at his chest open one by one, hurriedly and efficiently as if she’d had ages of practice. They hadn’t tried to kiss each other again; they needed the space to work. It left it clear just how out of breath the both of them had become without noticing it, his chest rising and falling under her fingertips and her own doing the same as he tugged at the zipper of her jumpsuit, initially with some trouble and then instantly undoing it down to her belt as it finally cooperated. He abandoned it as soon as she’d finished with his last button and he tore the jacket off far more quickly than she expected before flinging it carelessly to the floor and leaning in toward her to kiss her again. Before he quite managed and despite the jolt of a sweeping feeling down through her body her tongue tripped over a few words.

“Was that your favorite one?”

The low, coarse tone in his voice with the brisk reply was even more surprising.

“Bugger it.”

She’d intended to reply but she was surprised by how his voice made her head swim, and whatever she’d planned to say was drowned out by the rush of it.

They’d made their way to the back wall but she was too distracted to change course until he did, or maybe it was the way he pulled her toward himself by her belt and she barely had time to gasp. By instinct she pressed forward into him only to feel him pull slightly away but before she could wonder she felt his hands working at her belt again, only a vague sensation of tugging at her waist. Her grip on his shirt loosened with the idea to help but forgot what they were doing; in a way the pull at the webbing reminded her of those careful touches during their maintenance excursion and as if he’d somehow sensed her thoughts his grip lightened to blindly examine the fastening more gently. 

Rather than leave the rest of her ignored and impatient, he leaned into her and his lips brushed against hers before shifting to the side, across her cheek, and settled against the skin just behind her ear where he breathed out a deep sigh, the rushing air and the light touch of his beard mingling in an unexpected and completely novel sensation that triggered an involuntary tremor from her. She was barely aware of his progress with the belt. If she were able to pay more attention she might have been surprised; maybe he’d given the piece of clothing a significant amount of consideration, more than she would have thought.

There was no sense of time until she felt a slight pressure at her waist release and heard the metallic clatter of the belt buckle as it hit the ground and as soon as his hands were free they were at her jaw again, pulling her in for another kiss that she returned all-too-happily. Her fingers immediately went to his own waist and popped open the button of his trousers and slipped down between the fabric of his shirt and his pants until they reached skin. It was awkward without her properly undoing his zipper but she didn’t have the mind to consider it or the extra faculties to care and instead focused entirely on the only goal she’d had in the first place. 

He pulled away for a gasping breath and didn’t try to catch her lips again and the thought briefly occurred to her that maybe he couldn’t. It was only once they’d parted from each other that she’d opened her eyes and recognized the half-dark of a different room—his bedroom. She hadn’t even realized they’d made it there. It was enough to refocus her.

Her free hand tugged down at the zipper of his trousers before pulling his suspenders down over his shoulder but it was the work of the other hand that she was more interested in. Snaking farther downward, she dragged her fingertips gently down past the skin of his abdomen and barely had to reach any farther before the backs of her knuckles brushed against an intense heat and soft skin. He was already hard, and at the brush of her knuckles a hiss escaped him, followed by a strained ‘ngh’ smothered to near-silence in his throat as her movements briefly stopped. She could feel her own heart pounding in her chest as she lifted her fingers away before reaching carefully to either side until her fingertips brushed against his cock and, not hesitating, she adjusted the angle of her hand and curled it around him, enveloping as much as she could of him in her palm. A deep groan reverberated in his chest and it felt like it moved from him through where her hands gripped him, and maybe she reacted in turn—she couldn’t be sure—but he throbbed in her palm and he uttered low words on a shaky sigh.

“Oh, fuck  _ me _ …”

It made her stomach plummet and her muscles feel briefly weak but he’d recovered and she didn’t notice it until it was happening—his tongue slipping uncontested between her lips and sliding firmly against her own and she only vaguely felt his hands at her shoulders until finally recognizing he was tugging at her jumpsuit. She inwardly cursed her sleeves as his attempt to remove them forced her to let go of him but she did so and the sleeves were off near-instantly, his hands already on her undershirt and pulling it up over her head, and without the resistance of the belt the jumpsuit slid off of her hips easily and to the ground. It was dizzying and made everything feel like it was moving faster; she wanted her hands on him again but his clothes were similarly still in the way and she pulled the other arm of his suspenders to the side and quickly grasped the fabric at his waist to pull down both his trousers and underwear all at once. She had to fight through a shuddering breath when they resisted—realizing why, she pulled the waist of them farther from his body to free them from the gentle curve of his cock and shoved the cloth to the ground before—satisfied—she brought both of her hands to him, each cupping the hot, hard flesh at his groin and pressing it firmly against his body, applying enough pressure that it caused a hitch in his breath.

It had been intended to motivate him, though he clearly didn’t need it; finally impatient with it, he removed his shirt and she felt one of his hands coil behind her, settling at her lower back and his other was at her belly, reaching further down and slipping beneath her underwear with obvious purpose before his fingertips brushed high against her inner thighs and she couldn’t help the shiver that ran through her body or the whispered, “Oh my god.” His lips were at her neck, his beard brushing lightly against her skin in a way that set the hair on end, and his hand slipped between her legs, searching for only a moment before his fingers found a slick warmth and lingered there for a moment moving carefully as he breathed a sigh against her skin. Unable to help the tremble that moved up her thighs, she curled her arms tightly over his shoulders, not completely trusting herself to keep her own weight as he dragged his fingers toward himself across the contours between her legs.

“Fuck, Ryan—”

She could feel the shortness of her breath and didn’t bother trying to catch it as he repeated the motion more confidently before his fingers paused and searched more thoroughly until they brushed against a small, slick nub, and the shiver it sent down her spine was enough confirmation for him to circle it again more slowly in a movement that pulled a faint and helpless sound of pleasure from her throat. She didn’t have any time to orient herself; he repeated the motion and then, a moment later, slid his fingers back again and pressed gently against the source of the wetness until he found the correct angle and his fingers slipped with deliberate slowness inside her.

She knew she made some indecent sound but didn’t have the presence of mind to be embarrassed. She only knew for sure that her own fingers pressed tightly into the skin of his back as she tried to control her breath. His lips left her neck and his free hand left her lower back and instead it worked at the hook of her bra and, unclasping it easily, slid it off of her shoulders. He lowered his head and hunted out her nipple with his lips as his hand curled over her other breast, cupping it with his palm as his thumb brushed across her skin, eventually slowing and lingering as it brushed gently over the firm, sensitive nub there. It took effort to keep his name off of her breath; it was even more difficult when he pushed his fingers deeper inside her and curled them gently toward himself to press more firmly against her inner walls. It forced her to bite down on her bottom lip—hard—and sent a shock through her that lit an odd and unexpected impatience in her gut. 

Despite the strange, contradictory disappointment that came with it her hands gripped his wrists and pulled him away. He made a murmured, hazy sound of question that she didn’t bother to answer, instead grasping his forearm and stepping backward, attempting to be careful even in her rush. Her heels knocked against the edge of the bed and she let herself fall back on it, and her grip on his wrist ensured that he came with her. He landed above her with a soft breath of surprise, forced away from her entirely as she quickly reached down and shimmied herself out of her underwear. She didn’t give him any time to recover before her hands were on him, wrapped around his cock, and she stroked the length of him once, twice, three times before pulling him unsubtly toward her, her inner thighs pressing lightly against either of his hips and her other hand gripping his waist as well as it could to further get the point across. The groan that came from him was a low sound from deep within his chest and his lips made a brief detour back to her breasts before stopping as a sudden thought seemed to occur to him, somehow managing to break through the drunken haze enough for him to utter a breathy and halfhearted-sounding curse.

“Shit. I don’t have—”

She’d known where the thought was going and her voice cut him off firmly despite the breathiness of it.

“It’s not a problem.”

It took less than a second for the both of them to recover from the thought and she shuffled closer to him with a gasping breath until she felt the intense warmth as the tip of his member slicked across her lower lips and—with her hands urging him—he angled his hips forward and slid slowly but easily inside her. 

Her mind went completely blank; she was briefly lost as the inches pushed into her and fulfilled that strange ache that had built up and her fingers mindlessly pressed harder into his skin at his waist. She could feel his hands gripping the bedspread on either side of her as his voice escaped hoarsely on a long, drawn out sigh.

“Fuck…”

His head dropped to her collar bone as he burrowed further into her until their hips were completely aligned and she felt like she could feel every small detail of him—of his breathing, his heartbeat—without even needing to touch him with her hands. He withdrew only the slightest amount—it couldn’t have been more than an inch—before driving his hips against hers again and despite her best efforts she failed to contain the embarrassingly high-pitched sound of surprise released on gasping breath as she pulled her hands away from him to coil them tightly into the sheets above her head instead.

“Oh my god, Ryan...”

Taking the cue, he repeated the motion and she bit her lip to keep the sound from escaping again, instead attempting to focus on the feel of it and the angle of her hips as he pressed into her once again, more quickly and insistently.

True, it had been a while since she had been with anyone; even before the cruise things hadn’t been going particularly well in terms of relationships. But it wasn’t as if she hadn’t had her options and it wasn’t as if she’d been hard up for anything for, say, years. Maybe there  _ had _ been some buildup since that first time in his cabin, when she’d practically jumped him in the first place. Maybe she’d been wrong to think it was just some ridiculous, spur-of-the-moment instinct that turned out to be a mistake when she acted on it. And maybe the time in between—the hiding from him, the strange half-understandings and complete  _ mis _ understandings, and then the break of relief when things suddenly and finally made sense—had only made all of it stronger. , 

She was paying for it now. She didn’t mind at all.

She repositioned one hand to curl around the back of his neck and hold him there, his forehead still pressed against her collarbone as he began to build a rhythm, his panting breath gusting over her chest with each thrust of his hips. And some things were obvious as it all started to force small sounds of pleasure from her each time their bodies fully met—the way the length of him massaged her inner walls and the heat of him inside her that was enough to make her hand start to scramble for better purchase against the bedsheets.

“Ryan—”

It was part question and part affirmation and he responded with a low grunt, a sound that immediately turned to a groan as the movement of his hips gained speed, and he lifted his head and pressed his lips against hers for only a moment, unable to maintain the kiss through lack of air. But he didn’t pull away: his forehead pressed lightly against hers and she opened her eyes to see his own tightly shut, his lips parted and his breath panting, but her lashes fluttered closed as he thrust into her more deeply, quick but withdrawing slowly, and his voice was nothing but a groan.

“Fuck, Billie. You’re—”

The thought was interrupted by his own body when he plunged into her once again and he didn’t recover. For a moment his movements were more uniform, like they had been at the beginning, but they were rapidly becoming something quick and sharp that pulled a small ‘ah’ from her throat each time he pressed deeply enough to rub against those places she hadn’t been touched in so long and each one seemed only to encourage him. His forehead left hers and he instead buried himself against the curve of her neck, his teeth nipping at her skin just as his hands moved—one still holding the sheets to keep his balance and the other shifting to clutch tightly at her hip, pulling her toward him at the same time he drove into her. It forced other sounds from her throat, small curses and louder ones, and he responded in turn with nothing but the sound of her name. She knew they were tumbling over the edge but somehow didn’t fully realize it until she felt the way his cock seemed to impossibly harden inside her in a way that promised to soothe what remained of the ache that had built up in her ever since he had touched her in the storage room, and the inevitability sent a rush through her body. A stronger sensation was building in her stomach, a dam meant to burst, and the tension threaded in her muscles left her unable to move, her toes curled in anticipation.

“Oh my  _ god, _ Ryan—”

It was almost like he had just been waiting for her to say his name. A deep shudder electrified each of his muscles in a series of twitches and his tongue tripped over the syllables as his mind began rapidly unravelling.

“Ah— _ ah _ — _ fuck _ —”

His hips met hers in two deep strokes before he thrust into her and buried himself as deeply as possible, their hips nestled firmly against one another, and she felt the length of him pulse inside her as the rest of his body was hit with a deep and earth-shattering tremor. She gasped and—unable to stop the reflex—arched her back to meet him, a hand leaving its place coiled in the sheets to instead hold him close against her neck as another hard quake struck her, starting at the core of where they met and flooding outward through her. It forced another wordless sound from him and the hard shudder that moved through his body continued as his fingers kept their solid hold on her hip, keeping her close despite the involuntary spasms of his muscles.

She had no idea how long it lasted, or how long it took her to start to recover. It was only when the random firing of her nerves began to fade that she slowly noticed it in him as well, the seizing of his muscles replaced by the smooth—if still rapid—rise and fall of his back with deepened breaths. He stayed nestled into her neck, held there by her weakening grip as his breath started to soften, and it was clear he’d recovered more than she had by the way he brushed his lips just behind the curve of her ear in a careful touch, his elbow pressed into the mattress and the knuckles of his opposite hand leaving her hip to run with the lightest possible touch up her side, beginning at her hip and moving up to her ribs. 

It felt surprisingly intimate and her heart stuttered over it despite the haze of satisfaction. It was enough to bring her fully back to reality. 

She pulled her fingers gingerly away from his neck and he pulled away from her in return, his weight shifting as he fell to the bed beside her instead, and the two of them lied in silence as they tried to catch their breath. She took a careful glance at him from the corner of her eyes. Her vision had adjusted to the half-light and she could see him easily; there was a subtle, soft look about him, his hair in disarray and a light sheen of sweat on his brow. Her eyes flicked quickly away. She returned to staring up at the ceiling, certain that Ryan was doing the same. 

Neither of them spoke for a long time. She was the first to catch her breath and she swallowed, managing to find her voice even if it was more quiet than intended and a bit hoarse.

“So…” The word trailed off and she wasn’t sure if the pause was to help her patch her thoughts back together or if it was just hesitation. “... no one can ever know about this, right?”

There was a pause in which it seemed he might still be trying to calm his breathing. She sensed the nod more than she saw it.

“Right.”

She’d barely had any energy to worry about his reply but she breathed an internal sigh of relief all the same. 

She took a deep, careful breath to smooth out what was left of the heavy rise and fall of her chest and sighed before speaking, trying hard to make it sound casual.

“You know…”

“... I don’t, actually.”

She hadn’t expected him to reply so quickly or so easily considering how airy his tone still sounded. Maybe it was spite at being taken off guard—she snorted and was moving before she had the chance to even think about it; she lifted herself from the mattress and shifted to the side, sliding one leg across his body. He made a small noise of surprise, and by the time she settled—straddling his stomach—he’d gone still with his hands slightly raised on either side of himself as if in defense. It may have been the vulnerable position that put him on sudden guard, or maybe he had suddenly recognized something in the tone of voice she’d used. Regardless, his voice dropped abruptly to a low murmur.

“Oh, no…” His breath stopped, stuttered, hitched and he paused, giving her a second to go on before deciding he should stall her. “I’m not going to like this, am I? I feel like I’m not going to like this.”

Making him wait was probably cruel. She did it anyway.

“Billie—”

“... .when you said you were a terrible lay…”

His body had tensed but when she said it he fell back against the mattress and pulled his hands upward to cover his face with a low groan.

“ _ Why? _ ”

She did  _ try _ to stifle her laugh, but didn’t entirely manage it. It only gave him room to go on.

“I am very thoroughly  _ not _ liking this…”

“I’ve had worse.”

She’d only meant it as a joke but it didn’t matter; his hands had shifted and he was pressing the balls of both palms against his eyelids with gritted teeth as he went on, sounding decisively defeated.

“Thank you, that’s  _ incredibly _ helpful, particularly right now. I appreciate the timely feedback.”

She laughed in earnest and pushed herself away, sitting next to him with an unrepentant grin. He, on the other hand, looked like he was in agony.

“Of all the things I’ve said, you had to remember that.”

“It left an impression.”

He’d started lifting his hands away from his face. The words seemed to catch his attention and his eyes shifted toward her to settle with the slightest hint of interest. She glanced away, managing to keep the grin despite the flush of embarrassment that crept in. The comment was a bit more revealing than she’d intended it to be. Biting the inside of her cheek, she lowered her head and looked further to the side, catching sight of her clothes on the floor. Maybe by reflex, she crossed her arms over her chest and rubbed her hands lightly against her skin to warm it before carefully shifting her eyes back to him. He pushed himself up as well but carefully and slowly and she dropped her eyes to the floor once again and took a breath to organize her words.

“I should probably go.” 

Despite his lagging response it sounded like he expected it; it didn’t particularly sound as if he was looking forward to it. Still, he answered quickly enough.

“Mm. I’m guessing we’re about five minutes away from a major disaster without you on duty.”

It wasn’t sarcastic.

Her eyes shifted toward him and she offered him a smirk, something he returned in the form of a smile. Something in it that didn’t seem quite convincing. It almost made her feel like she should say something but in the second she tried nothing came to mind. Instead, after a few anxious seconds she abandoned the effort and crawled to the edge of the bed and slid off of it, gathering her clothing. She quickly slipped into her underwear and bra and pulled her shirt over her head, shuffling the fabric over her chest. A faint glint distracted her, only discernible because her eyes had adjusted to the light: the readout of his alarm clock cast a gentle glow that caught on the edges of something circular. A ring.

She stopped for a second, unmoving. Unable to, really. For some reason it caught her off guard—something that didn’t make sense in the first place. It wasn’t as if it was anything that should be surprising but it made her uncomfortable all the same. She quickly remembered what she was doing and abruptly dropped her eyes, making a point of fixing her hair before running her hands down the fabric of her shirt to smooth it, her hands already moving on to the rest of her clothes. She cleared her throat and took a breath to keep herself from babbling. Miraculously, it worked.

“So, tomorrow?”

“... tomorrow?”

Somehow she’d forgotten that she hadn’t asked him. In fairness there had been some distractions.

“Helping me. With checking sensors?”

“Oh. Right.”

She offered him a smile with a faint, awkward laugh.

“Cool.” 

He’d gathered his own clothes and was pulling his trousers on. It was easier with him not paying her full attention; she took a gentle jab at him, narrowing an eye.

“Try not to fall asleep standing up.”

He looked at her strangely but it was better than before and she stepped backward with an unintended bounce in her step, not sure where it came from but deeply aware of both how mortifying and inappropriate it felt. She tried to cover with a wave and, blinking at herself, deliberately didn’t wait for a response as she made a quick retreat out into the main quarters, snagging her boots from the floor and hopping into them awkwardly on her way to the door. Once she had everything sorted and made it to the door she stopped to settle herself, taking a deep breath to try to calm her heart rate and steel herself, looking down over her clothes and making one last pass to be sure everything was in order.

Without any more excuses to hesitate, she glanced to the monitor on the side of the door and swept her hand over it to take a quick glance at the outside hallway and—finding no one within view— stepped in front of the sensor. The moment it was open far enough for her to fit she slipped through the crack and out in the hallway, walking briskly and already adjusting her hair again before reminding herself to leave it alone. 

Realizing she’d left her tablet in the restaurant and as a result without anything to keep her hands busy or her mind occupied as she walked, her blank stare turned downward as she searched herself for some other option. Her eyes alighted on the bracelet and she raised her hand to look at it, breathing a sigh of relief. There weren’t any new messages—not that she’d expected any—and she was just about to open up a program to check the ship’s latest readings when her drifted just slightly off course to her curled knuckles and her mind snapped instantaneously back to when he had run his own slowly up the length of her body. It sent an unexpected shiver through her that nearly caused her to trip over her own feet in her determination to keep moving and she recovered uneasily, dropping her hands stiffly to either side of herself with her fingers curled in fists and staring resolutely forward as she did her best to lock out any thought that didn’t have to do with retrieving her tablet. Once she had it in her hands she would have access to all of the data she could ask for, and with that, all of the distraction she could ever hope to have. Enough, hopefully, to keep her mind off of anything to do with Ryan. Surely work would keep her focused. 

She just had to make it to the end of the day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woof i almost forgot to put end notes  
> not to get too into it but given that it's x years into the future I like to imagine all STIs have been wiped out because let's have some good in this world at least  
> similarly don't tell me that billie wouldn't have everything to do with having a uterus on absolute lockdown


End file.
